Eid al-Adha is the festival of sacrifice, and for Muslim communities in Fairfield, Canterbury-Bankstown and Liverpool, celebrating under the harsh lockdown has been incredibly difficult and saddening.
In my household, the traditions of Eid usually involve gathering with family and friends for communal Eid prayer after sunrise at a park, followed by breakfast with family at a local restaurant. Eid al-Adha is usually celebrated over three days, filled with visits to extended family and friends, enjoying traditional foods and sweets, and giving gifts to children.
This Eid involved a lot of personal sacrifices, and helped me really reflect on the true meaning of these three days. On Tuesday, the first day of Eid, I felt the loneliness of a single mother as my daughter spent most of the day with her paternal family. It made me think about all the children who don’t have the privilege of spending Eid with both their parents, and of all the single parents who have to sacrifice their time with their children.
Despite not having my daughter, and to keep the spirit of Eid going in lockdown, we had virtual visits instead, with FaceTime phone calls to family and friends. My mother decorated the house with beautiful lanterns and fairy lights. We shared nostalgic memories of previous Eids with the whole family, and we bonded over the story of Prophet Ibrahim and his sacrifice.
According to Islam, Prophet Ibrahim was told in a dream to sacrifice his son Ismail. Prophet Ibrahim loved his son dearly, however he was ready to follow God’s command, so he took his son to the top of a mountain called Arafah, and told his son about the dream and Allah’s command to sacrifice him. Ismail supported his father, and asked him to tie his arms and legs so that he would not struggle, and told his father to blindfold himself so he would not have to watch him suffer. Prophet Ibrahim blindfolded himself and proceeded to sacrifice his son, however when he took the blindfold off, he found the body of a dead ram in front of him, and Ismail unharmed standing next to him. Based on this story, Muslims all over the world follow in his footsteps during the days of Hajj and sacrifice an animal on Eid al-Adha.
The story of Prophet Ibrahim is particularly poignant for me. As I write this on the third day of Eid, I have just left my daughter in hospital with her other parent, fully knowing that there could be a reality where I never see her again. My daughter is currently in a relapse of her stage 4 childhood cancer, and every Thursday she undergoes an aggressive chemotherapy protocol.
There is currently a one-parent rule for hospital inpatients and clinic appointments, and no siblings or family allowed, due to Covid restrictions. This can be very isolating and disheartening for sick kids and their families. I personally experience a lot of anxiety in the times I am not with my daughter.
At the same time, I have to accept this life of constant sacrifice, where each week, my daughter has to be restrained by her arms and her legs, while the oncology nurse stabs her in the ribs with a needle to access her port device so that the cytotoxic drugs can be delivered into her body. I have to accept that those drugs could either give her life or end her life.
The story of Prophet Ibrahim helps me to ground myself and give me peace. It teaches me to let go of every attachment and to love and trust God with utmost sincerity. I remind myself that my daughter has been entrusted to me in this life by God, and that it is my duty to love her, protect her and care for her as best as I can.
