The Trials & Tribulations challenge is messy, exhausting, and at times a little overwhelming. But it’s also exhilarating, empowering, and full of lessons. Taking on the adventure fully covered in your favourite abaya and hijab might seem unthinkable to some, but it’s a unique journey that challenges both your body and spirit. The fabric, the mud, the water—all of it combines to push you to your limits, teach you patience, and strengthen your connection to yourself, your faith, and your sisters.
The first step: facing the unknown
At the start there is a mix of nerves and excitement. Your carefully chosen abaya feels both familiar and strange in this setting. Your hijab, meticulously pinned and secured for the challenge ahead, frames your determined expression. You’re stepping into a world where modest clothing is usually unseen, and your attire might draw curious glances. But then it hits you: this is exactly why you’re here. To show that you can take on the same challenges as anyone else, without compromising who you are.
As you start walking or jogging, the elegant fabric flows with you, brushing against your legs and catching the breeze. There’s a moment of adjustment—your pace, your footing, your awareness of how the layers move. But then you settle in, and with each step, you’re more confident. The first few obstacles leave their mark—small scrapes on your palms, tender spots on your knees—each one a badge of honour in this journey.
Crawling through mud: grounding yourself
Crawling on hands and knees through thick, sticky mud feels raw and humbling. The earth is cold and damp beneath you, and the mud pulls at your abaya, turning its lightweight fabric into a heavy second skin. It clings to you, seeping through to leave tender bruises on your knees and elbows, making every movement a test of will.
But isn’t that life? The struggle, the weight, the dull ache in your muscles—it’s all part of the journey. You keep moving, inch by inch, and with every pull forward, you’re reminded that resilience is built in the messiness of it all. Your once-pristine abaya becomes a canvas of your determination, each muddy streak and small tear telling its own story of perseverance.
Climbing higher: overcoming barriers
Reaching a wall or a cargo net, you pause for a second. Your mud-caked abaya feels like an extra challenge now, catching on edges and adding weight to every climb. The rope burns start to sting your palms, and earlier bruises remind you of their presence. But then you realise: you’ve faced far bigger barriers in life. What’s a little fabric and discomfort compared to the strength within you?
Adjust, tuck, climb. Your focus sharpens as you pull yourself up and over, one aching hand at a time. Your hijab, though damp with sweat and mud, stays secure—a constant reminder of your purpose. At the top, there’s a moment of triumph—a reminder that you’re stronger than the doubts and obstacles.
Wading through water: carrying the weight
The water is cold, shocking your system as your abaya transforms from flowing fabric to clinging weight. The waterlogged material adds weight to every movement, dragging at your tender muscles with each step. Your hijab, heavy against your neck and shoulders, tests your endurance further. The weight feels almost unbearable at first, but then a thought strikes: isn’t this what so many women carry every day? The burdens of life, of expectations, of simply surviving.
This moment of physical challenge becomes about more than just you. It’s a chance to reflect on the struggles of others—women who wade through actual rivers to flee conflict, girls who endure discomfort without proper clothing or resources. Your heavy, waterlogged abaya becomes a symbol of their resilience, their strength.
Coated in mud: a testament to perseverance
By the end of the challenge, there’s no part of you untouched by mud. It’s in your hair, on your face, layered thickly on your once-beautiful abaya and hijab. Every movement reminds you of new bruises forming, of muscles pushed to their limits.
You might look at yourself and laugh—it’s hard not to. But as you stare at the mud, you realise it’s not just dirt. It’s evidence of your effort, your perseverance, your refusal to give up. The bumps, bruises, and scrapes you’ve earned along the way feel like trophies. Each tender spot tells a story of determination. They don’t diminish you; they refine you.
Why it matters: faith, growth, and sisterhood
This isn’t just about the physical challenge—it’s about what the challenge teaches you through every ache and discomfort.
Faith in action
Enduring physical trials while maintaining your modesty strengthens your faith. Every bruise, every scrape, every moment of pushing through pain becomes an act of devotion. Each step is a test of patience, a reminder of your ability to push through while holding onto your values.
Empathy and reflection
The discomfort is temporary, but it opens your eyes to the struggles of others—women and girls who endure unimaginable hardships daily, often without the support and resources you have. Your aching muscles become bridges of understanding.
Strength in sisterhood
If you’re taking part with friends or a group, the bonds you build through shared discomfort are irreplaceable. Helping each other up when muscles scream in protest, sharing laughs through the mud, and celebrating each sister’s triumph over physical and mental challenges create memories that last a lifetime.
Embrace the discomfort
Yes, it’s hard. The mud sticks, the water weighs you down, and the bruises remind you of every climb and fall. Your beautiful abaya may never look the same, marked forever by this test of will. But isn’t that the point? Discomfort isn’t something to shy away from—it’s something to embrace, to welcome as a teacher.
Each moment of struggle, each new ache and tender spot, is an opportunity to grow, to reflect, and to prove to yourself that you can do more than you thought possible. Completing the challenge is about more than just finishing a race. It’s about stepping into your strength, holding onto your faith, and inspiring others to do the same.
So let the mud soak in. Let the fabric get heavy. Let the challenges leave their marks on both body and spirit. And when you cross that finish line, your abaya and hijab transformed by the journey, remember: the discomfort was just the beginning of what you’ve gained. Every bruise, every scrape, every aching muscle has shaped you into someone stronger, more resilient, and more deeply connected to your faith and community.