Voice of British Muslim Women

Sameea Jonnud, Aldershot 

Jalsa Salana is a special time which has left me with different memories; the people, the colour, the spiritual regeneration, there is so much that appears as snapshots of my Jalsa experience. 

Thursday – Mud 

I was working in hospitality, taking guests from the entrance to the accommodation area. Rain was falling, the accommodation area an expanse of thick, squelching mud. These were the conditions greeting guests as they arrived but did it dampen their spirits? Absolutely not. I saw joy on arrival, appreciation for workers’ assistance and anticipation for Jalsa. Perhaps the favourite Thursday picture in my memory is arriving early to be greeted by our Nazima (in-charge) covered from head to toe in mud and laughing heartily as she told me about pushing a golf buggy out of the mud. Her attitude illustrated the blessings felt in serving at Jalsa Salana. 

Friday – Smile 

The first session of Jalsa is Friday Prayers and everyone is full of anticipation for the Sermon, delivered by worldwide head of the Ahmadiyya Muslim Community, His Holiness, Mirza Masroor Ahmad, may Allah be his Helper. That’s the moment you feel Jalsa is here. One moment is of sitting outside the main marquee listening. There were a lot of children around and murmurs of talking; a Lajna member on duty passed by and looking at anyone talking, silently put one finger in front of her mouth to encourage quietness, but with a lovely smile on her face, so no additional noise was made and no one felt like they were being told off. 

Saturday morning – His Holiness 

Saturday is special for us because His Holiness delivers an address to Lajna. Being in the marquee is special but even outside it feels different to his other addresses, like he is speaking to us in particular. Before his address the academic awards are given out. One year was special because a cousin getting an award was abroad so my mum accepted it for her. For completion, another year my dad accepted an award for his nephew who was also unable to attend, leaving me with two beautiful memories. 

Saturday afternoon 

Saturday is often more relaxed, with guests settled in and no feeling of hurry. It allows for meeting friends and family in the lunch break, often those I only see at Jalsa. As we live close to the Jalsa site, Saturday evening is when my mum invites those staying with her and others visiting to come for dinner. One particular Saturday saw family from USA, Sweden, Ireland, Pakistan and UK gather. A treasured memory is of aunts and uncles sitting together remembering stories from their days in Rabwah and even Qadian, Jalsa stories, how they would compete to Pray in the front row of the mosque as well as stories of pranks they played and the consequences – usually a telling off but with love so they learned a lesson. 

Sunday – Pledge 

The International Pledge of Allegiance is the main highlight of day three. Everyone repeating after His Holiness, the emotion in people’s voices, strengthening our faith and bringing a feeling of unity with our community; the memory of that sound of voices is the snapshot I keep.  

Sunday Evening – Chips 

As Jalsa Salana finishes there’s a great wave of gratitude that everything went well along with sadness that it’s over. Wind-up begins immediately and along with dinner many children go to the bazaar for a final bag of chips, something that’s become a bit of a post-Jalsa tradition. One year there was a long queue at the chip stall and some children ran ahead of their mother and got chips, waving back at her for money. She told them to return the chips as she hadn’t brought her purse from accommodation. The children were naturally disappointed but all at once I heard the Lajna member serving them and three others in the queue call out “I’ll pay for their chips”. The children had wide smiles and I felt emotional seeing evidence of real sisterhood. 

Monday Wind-up 

A final memory is of Monday morning, the day after Jalsa helping families reach the coaches leaving for Baitul Futuh. As we hurried, one gentleman asked, out of the blue, who our national Sadr was; I told him while wondering whether his family were upset by something. But the reason was that he wanted to write to tell her how happy and appreciative he was of all the Lajna workers who had looked after his wife and children. They left with prayers for all the workers and any exhaustion after five days just melted away. 

This is how I imagine Jalsa, as a collage made from snapshots of experiences which grows each year, as I’m sure it does for all who attend.