
Iffat Mirza, Raynes Park
Khilafat taught me languages that no one else can.
As I’m sure many other Ahmadi Muslims will agree, our Community’s annual convention, are three of the most awaited days of the year. As we eagerly volunteer our time and efforts in the weeks running up to it, the days pass in a blur of spirituality and positivity. Amongst these three blessed days, there is so much to which to look forward. Whether it’s meeting old friends, tasting the delicious ‘langar’ food, or most importantly, the much anticipated ‘Bai’at’ ceremony – that is the moment where at the hand of the Khalifa/Caliph of the Ahmadiyya Muslim Community, we reaffirm our commitment to our faith and giving it precedence over all worldly matters.
But growing up, one event has always been a key highlight of my experience of those three days. That is on the second day, His Holiness graces the women’s side of the Jalsa arena and before his address, holds the academic award ceremony. As a young girl, my best friend and I would always be eager to sit in the marquee and watch as the names of the recipients would be called out along with their academic achievements, beginning with their GCSEs all the way up to PhD candidates. With each passing one, my friend and I would turn to each other in amazement as we heard of excellent exam results. Together, we dreamed of the day when we will be old enough to be eligible for these awards.
The award itself was never the great motivator – though indeed, it is a beautiful medal and certificate accompanied with a copy of the Holy Qur’an, no doubt a very generous award! But the absolute honour of being handed these by none other than the Caliph himself is beyond words. Someone, who has the weight of the world resting on his shoulders, takes a moment of his day to publicly recognise and congratulate you on your achievements; this is an immense honour.
To this day, I cannot believe that on 13th August 2016, I too walked across the stage, and became not only the recipient of a medal, certificate, and a copy of the Holy Qur’an, but rather the recipient of a Caliph’s genuine guidance.
I am not an especially intelligent person; I do not consider intelligence to come to me naturally at all. I will say, though, that I have been given the good fortune to want to work hard, and through Allah the Almighty’s blessings, I try to fulfil this desire. But it is importantly through the Caliph’s strong guidance for girls in the community to pursue an education, that I have been able to focus myself to exert my most humble efforts.
In the run up to my GCSEs, I remember speaking to the head of my languages department about retaking a Spanish coursework examination in efforts to achieve a higher result. He was quite perplexed as to why I would volunteer to take an extra exam, and though I could have given any sort of quick excuse, I found myself explaining the award ceremony at the Jalsa Salana to him and that I wasn’t satisfied that my current grade would be good enough, (in case anyone is wondering, I actually ended up with the exact same mark even in the retake). Nonetheless, I did somehow end up with the required grades eligible for the award ceremony, and I am immensely thankful for this opportunity.
Because, even though that day I was told I had the same result and that I may as well have not retaken the Spanish exam, today I am, by a strange turn of events, the holder of a master’s degree in Latin American literature. Maybe it was that moment that made me think ‘I actually really want to be able to speak Spanish.’
The institution of Khilafat is one which foments a desire to reach for all available and righteous opportunities. For a young girl such as me, this was invaluable. The Ahmadiyya Khilafat has always recognised the potential for women to be the ones to fulfil the needs of their sisters. In 1922, His Holiness Mirza Bashir-ud-Din Mahmood Ahmad, the second caliph of the Ahmadiyya Community, established ‘Lajna Imaillah’ – the women’s auxiliary of the community for this exact purpose. The fruits of this are clearly visible, perhaps most evidently at the Jalsa Salana, where separate from the men, we have an equally efficient running of events at such a large scale. And not to mention, on average more recipients of the Academic awards than the men do.
Such benevolence towards women, which is not patronising but encouraging, not belittling but uplifting, and not silencing but empowering, cannot be found anywhere else in the world. The institution of Khilafat is one which always has, and always will, recognise the potential women hold.
In my case, I may have learned Spanish at school, and today I enjoy reading the occasional book or poem in its original language. But it was Khilafat which taught me that I can and should do so. Khilafat taught me languages which cannot be spoken or heard by anyone else.
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