Voice of British Muslim Women

Danila Jonnud, Hampshire

My earliest memories of Jalsa Salana do not begin with the tents, the sun, or even the mud. No, my earliest memories of Jalsa are the guests at my grandma’s house. We would climb up to the loft and bring down as many mattresses as possible which we would use to make a slope down the stairs, and using one as a sled, me and my sisters would slide down in various positions, one after the other. It was the easiest way of getting them downstairs – and the most fun!

Once they were downstairs, which admittedly took much longer than it should have, they would be put in the sun and beaten and then set up in the tidiest but accessible positions. All the rooms upstairs would be allocated to the families coming and mattresses set up in them as well. My grandmother herself refused to sleep on her own bed and my grandfather put his mattress on their treadmill! The girls and women all slept upstairs and the men downstairs and, the chief difficulty was trying not to step on anyone if you were leaving early in the morning or going to the bathroom at 1am. The morning Salat prayer was especially difficult but, despite the three days or more obstacle course, this was what created the Jalsa atmosphere and, in all honesty, I have missed it since moving out of my grandparents’ house. 

At night was most fun because on Saturday there was not much Jalsa accommodation duty to do because most people were already settled. My cousins would come back to the house to have a reunion with the guest family and we would have dinner and play, exchange stories of the day and listen to old stories of the Jalsas when there was only a hundred people, and of when the roti plant – the place where all the flat breads and naans were made – failed and all the people near enough were given bowls and bowls of kneaded flour and worked hard to cook rotis to feed all the people coming from around the world. There was laughter and despite there being another day to go, there was a bedtime no one paid attention to and more tea, coffee, juice and chocolate than was good for us at that time of the night – but it was Jalsa! A particular memory comes to me of sharing a Toblerone bar and the older people taking one piece and breaking it in half to share with another person, while we listened to how different Jalsa UK was to Canada or America.

Next, was the actual Jalsa – the tents, the smell of the fields, and mostly the hot sun, or, the pounding rain, which meant we came back muddier and muddier every day. We had a special pack of sweets which we brought at the same time every year. Strawberry laces, and pencils, strawberry lances and cola ones too. Of course, we also stocked on crisps because we are crisp fiends and then we would come home to a good dinner with all of our family and friends from around the world.

Since 2015, I have actually been a Muavina (worker) of the Lajna (ladies) Press & Media team but my earliest memories are of working in Accommodation, where we would lodge the people coming from all over the world. They would pay a deposit to buy bedding and mattresses, to lay down in the marquees which would be their homes for the next three, four and sometimes five days!

Now for the actual three days, we would meet up with our friends and family, eat the sweets and crisps we brought, play pranks, do the work in our different departments, and listen to the speeches and presentations. Another memorable thing is the inimitable pasta, which is served for lunch each year. It’s funny being a Pakistani girl choosing the chicken pasta every time, while reporters and guests always opt for the traditional daal and naan.

These are the things that make up Jalsa for me. Everyone probably has a different way of building up the Jalsa atmosphere, and their memories will revolve around different things, but personally, it is the atmosphere and the build-up that makes Jalsa for me – as well as the sun and the mud!