Mariam Amini met the man of her dreams. But before they could pursue their shared passion for adventure, they had to unite in her Muslim faith.
‘If we are to have a future together, eventually you would have to convert.’
I avoided Christian’s eyes as I said the words I’d been dreading. We were in my university halls in Warwick. It was a crisp November evening back in 2018, and at that point, we had only been ‘dating’ for a month.
Christian was raised in Sheffield, in the north of England. He is of English, Scottish, German and Italian descent. I was born in London but come from an Afghan family. Both sides of my family fled Kabul following the Soviet invasion in 1979.
We’d met volunteering in Malaysian Borneo only that summer, though our relationship had been strictly platonic during the expedition.
It was our shared curiosity and love for discovering new cultures that brought us together in Borneo. Once we returned to the UK, it didn’t take long for a more romantic relationship to ensue. In the early days, we would talk constantly about all the places we’d one day like to visit. Above all else, returning to South East Asia was high on our list.
The more we discussed the idea of travelling together, the more excited – and nervous – I felt. Within Afghan culture and my faith traditions, you must marry before you can live or travel with your partner. At the time, I just couldn’t picture how it would play out. I wanted to be honest with Christian, but I also didn’t want to scare him away.
Fortunately, he knew just what to say to reassure me: ‘If by then, things are going the way they have been, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to make sure I don’t lose you.’
Faith and family introductions
Over the next few months, Christian started exploring Islam more deeply. Often, when we would speak, he would tell me things he’d learned. Ironically, some of this knowledge was new, even to me. Though I was raised in a Muslim household, my parents never forced me to practice beyond what I felt comfortable with. The Quran itself states, ‘Let there be no compulsion in religion’.
Likewise, though it is not common for Afghan girls to leave home before marriage, my parents did not stop me when I told them I wanted to move out for university. Later, when I said I wished to study abroad in Berlin for a year, they supported me.
By December 2018, I was ready to tell my parents about Christian. I told them where we met, that he wasn’t Afghan, that he had been baptised a Catholic but was more spiritual. And I also told them of our travel intentions.
They weren’t exactly thrilled to hear their daughter planned to go away indefinitely with a stranger, but when they saw that I was serious, they started to entertain the idea more. They also emphasised that in order for us to travel together, we would first have to do our Islamic marriage ceremony, known as a nikkah.
At that stage, neither of us was ready to consider the nikkah seriously. Even so, the following April, I introduced Christian to my parents. It was an informal dinner in London, followed by games at a nearby arcade. I could tell they appreciated his easy-going nature, his polite friendliness and his curiosity about our faith.
Engagement and the Nikkah
I graduated in 2019 and, during this time, there were multiple conversations between our parents. Afghans embody a collectivist culture, so when two people come together, it marks the union between two families. Christian’s family were always accommodating of this.
For our one-year anniversary, they came to London where we held a small namzati (engagement) ceremony. It wasn’t long after this that we decided to do our nikkah.
Up until then, there had been a fair share of internal resistance. We had tried to find ways of travelling together where we wouldn’t have to get married, such as teaching English abroad and staying in separate accommodation. Neither of us wanted to rush into marriage, but more importantly, I didn’t want Christian to convert if he wasn’t sure about Islam. My biggest fear was that he would resent me later.
Equally, I knew there wasn’t really a better alternative. If we had gone against my family’s wishes, if I had turned my back on my faith and culture and left the UK with Christian unmarried, I would have been losing a big part of myself.
Thankfully, roughly a year after our initial conversation, Christian told me he was ready. We knew we had to commit fully if we wanted to move forward and travel freely together.
Our nikkah took place at my parents’ flat in London the following January. It was a very intimate gathering with only immediate family. Christian had completed his conversion on the way over, during which he had recited the Shahada (declaration of faith) that ‘there is no God but Allah and Muhammad is the messenger of Allah’.
During the ceremony, the imam spoke of family, unity and the value of faith. He asked for our consent and the acknowledgement of our witnesses. We discussed the mahr, an obligatory gift given by the groom to his wife, which serves as a form of financial security, before signing the marriage contract.
Read more: Why we chose to go on honeymoon with strangers
Our indefinite honeymoon begins
Four days later, we boarded an early morning flight to Greece. We visited Athens and Santorini, before taking a one-way flight back to Malaysia – where we had first met. Landing in Kuala Lumpur, a year and a half after our expedition in Borneo, felt like coming home.
The idea was to travel around South East Asia for a year – little did we know that Covid had other plans. We were volunteering on a permaculture project on Pulau Bidan, an island north of Penang, when the world went into lockdown. Suddenly, everything was uncertain. We didn’t know when, or if, we would be able to continue travelling. But it was this same uncertainty that inspired me to pray and connect with my faith more regularly.
We spent five weeks on Pulau Bidan before returning to the UK in April 2020. However, it wasn’t long before we found another volunteer project for that autumn, this time olive picking with a local family in Croatia.
That opportunity led to eight months in the Balkans. The following year, we flew to Mexico and travelled overland for nine months down to Bolivia. Though the initial adventure in South East Asia was cut short, our travel plans and ‘indefinite honeymoon’ as we like to call it, did eventually happen.
Whenever we’d meet other travellers, we found great enjoyment in telling them our story. It quickly became a source of pride, demonstrating our commitment to both each other and travel. The reactions varied. Western backpackers would find it surprising, while locals in Malaysia and other Muslim countries seemed pleased. But generally, everyone respected the intention behind our decisions.
The wedding and a leap of faith
For a long time, travel was the main priority, but we always planned to have a wedding. So, in 2025, I met Christian at the end of the altar in Sheffield, said ‘I do’ (again) and celebrated our commitment with our loved ones. Since the nikkah is not recognised within UK law, we also held a civil ceremony.
However, the nikkah will always hold a special place in our hearts. It is the date we have engraved on our new wedding rings. It is the day Christian first embraced Islam. Any doubts at the time were washed away by the fact we knew we were sure about each other.
By taking a leap of faith so early on, our relationship has been defined by trust, patience, honesty and security. And when we did finally start travelling together, we did it knowing we had everyone’s – including God’s – approval.
Five years later, our love for both travel and faith remains. Each was on display at the wedding. My sister recited the Quran during our ceremony and we displayed cards with our favourite Quranic verses. Meanwhile, our table names were inspired by our best-loved destinations and we had a box inviting guests to give us their travel recommendations for the future.
In many ways, it feels like the start of a new chapter. Next up, we’re planning a three-week, six-country trip across Central and Eastern Europe, which, inshallah (God willing), will take us each to 49 countries.
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Image credit: wedding photography by Bethany Clarke
