A Child's Prayer

The Messenger of Allah (PBUH) came out to us for one of the two later prayers (dhuhr or asr), carrying Hasan or Hussein. The Prophet (PBUH) then came to the front and put him down (next to his right foot) said takbir for the prayer and commenced praying. During the prayer, he performed a very long prostration, so I raised my head and there was the child, on the back of the Messenger of Allah (PBUH), who was in prostration. I then returned to my prostration. When the Messenger of Allah (PBUH) had offered the prayer, the people said: 'O Messenger of Allah! in the middle of your prayer, you performed prostration and lengthened it so much that we thought either something had happened or that you were receiving revelation!' He said: 'Neither was the case. Actually, my son made me his mount, and I did not want to hurry him until he had satisfied his wish.'" (Reported by Nasaa'i, Ibn Asaakir, and Haakim)

Sujud used to be my favourite position in prayer. I've heard many people say that this is where they feel closest to God. These days, I would definitely agree, but back in the day, I used to love peering between my legs at the person behind me, or if I was at the back, at whoever was playing or coming in. And when one is exhausted, labouring through twenty rakahs of taraweeh, it certainly was the most relaxing position.

I remember quietly racing the imam in the recitations at the beginning of the prayer. No, actually, I used to race him on everything, feeling immensely self-satisfied when I bet him, when there was a significant delay before the next move, like maybe secretly I was better than him.

I used to race everyone else, too, every time we changed positions. First to bow, first to straighten up, first to prostrate, first to sit up. First to finger tap, first to salam. Standing up first was the most fun. I felt so accomplished, when I'd stand up and look at all the other old people slowly get to their feet. Only as a kid did it make sense that coming first in the so-called race of prayers made you somehow first in the sight of Allah (SWT).

I also experimented with the finger tapping, or arranging my feet (together, apart, inverted), or even in the way I positioned myself. Sometimes in rukuh it would be a matter of how low I could bow, or if I could touch my toes. In sujud I'd try to scrunch myself up as small as possible, or flatten myself on the floor. When I was really bad, I'd like to sit like a sphinx, just stick my head up and look around, at everyone else being bottoms up.

Regardless, I did my prayers. I didn't complain. They felt good. Taraweeh especially brings you a sense of peace, I can testify to this then and now. I remember figuring out the imam's routine at my masjid - when he started on surah al-fil (my favourite!), I knew we had reached the middle of the twenty, and all the surahs that followed would be ones that I definitely knew (the first half were always the seemingly never-ending ones). Even without that trademark middle, I used to keep count by drawing lines on the velvet green carpet with my finger. Looking back, I think the other adults were secretly relieved that someone was keeping count, because every now and then they'd look at me and ask for an update. It made me feel important.

Once, during Ramadan, I was praying taraweeh beside a friend at the masjid, when her aunty came in late. My friend looked around while the imam recited on, and watched her aunt hurriedly take off her shoes, drop her bag in a corner, and bustle forward.

"Has taraweeh started?" her aunt whispered loudly, looking at her. I let my chin press against chest and bit my lip. My friend gazed at her aunt.

"Is this 'isha or taraweeh?" her aunt persisted.

My friend continued to look at her. I don't know what her expression was, but I imagine it was something along the lines of blank.

Then the imam said: "allahu akbar", and we all bowed. Her aunt kind of got it then. I had to fight off giggles. We didn't talk about it afterwards, although I'm pretty sure everyone heard this exchange. Never mind all that I was taught in madrasah up until then, it was only on that night I fully appreciated focusing your gaze on the ground while in prayer.

What madrasah really did fuel, though, were my dua. Every time they reinforced that we could ask whatever we wanted and Allah (SWT) would definitely give it to us some day, my daily prayers for the next few days would conclude by me closing my eyes, clasping my hands, and furiously concentrating on asking for a hamster.

I never got the hamster, but hey, I'll gladly take my cat over a hamster any day.

Peace in,
Laila

Wedding Bells

So much for the 'I'm-going-to-post-random-stuff-to-get-into-the-Ramadan-spirit' thing. Um. Excuses. I've been tired. I've been busy. I've been... really really tired. And admittedly, this was not such a great Ramadan for me, so far. It was really a slap in the face to be told we were already in the last 10 days o.o I'm usually much better, but this time I let it slip away :/ Insha'allah I'll get another year.

Anyhow, another reason why I didn't post was because I was waiting for a certain event, and... erm, it took some time. About a week or two after my last post, my cousins' babies were due. One was on time, the other was a whole week late. Then, because I had photos for the first, I wanted to have photos for the second, but alas, it hasn't happened. But whatever. Let me introduce to you...

Little Miss Japan: Sara

 Très adorable, non? And a week later (although he was due a day earlier), Little Mr Dubai was born. I have no pictures, nor have I a name, but I'm superdy excited all the same. I love it when our already huge family grows x) I love being an aunt a million times over.

I wonder if you remember this one? From ayyyges ago?

Anyhow, this isn't about my incredibly awesome perpetually expanding family. This is, as you may have guessed by the title, about marriage. And it may seem ... not that important, during this month, but I believe there's a hadith somewhere that says marriage is half your deen? In which case, this ia very relevant ^_^

I decided to do this post 'cause I had an Interesting Conversation with Linchy yesterday, and it also brought back to mind many things I've made Mental Notes about, to mention, but never got around to doing. Well, here it is.

So basically, 95% of my family has been hitched by semi-arranged marriage.

... okay, first, lemme make the distinctions here. Arranged marriage is when your family/parents pick who you're marrying, you don't get a say, it's just a done deal.

Semi-arranged is when your family/parents present you with potential spouse after potential spouse, but ultimately, you make the decision from who they present.

And, erm, love marriage, well, I guess that speaks for itself ^_^

Also, I don't think I'm going to be saying anything controversial, but JUST IN CASE, these opinions are MY OWN. I am not seeking to shove this down anyone's throat, kapisce?

Anyway. from what I know (and I rarely get to be overseas when there is a wedding in my family), we have one 'love' marriage in my family. A cousin of mine was the pretty girl walking home from school, her hubby-to-be was the handsome guy playing cricket along the road, they saw each other, sparks flew, and they approached the parents for a marriage, by way of doing it 'right'. 

It was not met well, initially, with her parents. But my dad (having been dubbed 'the cool uncle') stepped in and acted as her wali, they got hitched, and eventually her dad realised that his son-in-law wasn't such a bad guy. It's just the notion of a love marriage had all the wrong connotations.

But anyway, the rest of my family, from what I know, had semi-arranged marriages. You know, when people hear that phrase - any kind of 'arranged marriage' - the usual reaction is shockhorrordisgust. No really, today I heard snippets of a conversation where this guy pronounced his utmost digust for arranged marriages: 'I hate arranged marriages. They're [bad word] disgusting.'

Okay, so this is kind of understandable, and I agree when it comes specifically to arranged arranged marriages. No one should be forced to marry someone, everyone has the right to make their own decision, and I mean, it's haraam anyway, under Islam (so when you hear those horror stories about crazy Muslim families forcing their girls into marriages with people they don't know or didn't agree to - IT'S NOT ISLAM. OKAY?!).

But when arranged marriage is spoken about here, it usually encompasses semi-arranged too, and I'm here to defend that.

Let me go back to my extended family, in Sri Lanka. They live mostly in underdeveloped areas. The way they grew up, boys and girls do not mingle. Even if they go to co-ed schools, girls hang with girls, boys hang with boys, they barely socialise between them, unless they're related. Otherwise, they're just awkward.

It's partially a society thing, but also, for many - especially the 'villagers' of my dad's side - they're all just naturally shy. Girls especially, and boys sometimes when they have to interact with girls,  are just timid by nature. 

These are just the school days. Perhaps, if they got to uni, they'd 'mature' in such a way that they'd socialise more. But, the education system is really strict. If you're not a part of the 'cream of the crop' in the first round, well, that's it. You're out. And a lot of people don't make it to the uni stage. So there's very few places for you to actually meet someone and get to know each other inadvertently, on 'halal' grounds. 

In these circumstances, it is incredibly difficult to find your One True Love. Especially if you're of the Very Bashful, like most of my cousins. While some of them made it to further education, the majority, particularly the 'villagers' of my dad's side, didn't. The rest of their life is just building a family. But how's one supposed to do that if they can't find a person to start with?

Hence that 'brokering' business, where the families put their feelers out and look for who's available. They look at the photos, they ask around, and if someone seems okay, a meeting is organised. The eligible bachelors/bachelorettes converse in supervised conditions, and if they like, another meeting or two may be organised, and then, TRALALALA, THE WEDDING BELLS RING.

And it works for them. Trust me. Take my favourite cousin (mother of Little Mr Dubai). The whole meet and greet thing took place before we were there, but we were there for the nikaah (contract signing ceremony thing - on Western terms, it's sort of like a pre-nup engagement party). If you think it's awkward and weird and you don't understand how you can possibly just fall in love with a stranger, let me tell you that 

- well, doesn't that happen a lot anyway? You meet someone you didn't know before, and love blossoms after you get to know them. This is just a different, more controlled environment -

I've seen it with my own eyes. Oh my God, it was sort of sickening to watch her get lost in that lovey dovey delirium. Her man had to go to Dubai soon after, and they Skyped every night, and every day she just kept floating about waiting for every night, and I will not lie IwasojealousshehadallherattentiononhimwhereasIonlygettoseehereveryfewyearsIwantedhertodoteonME.
She had a special ring tone for him, and she made a Brangelina variation of their name, and it was just ewwwwww. 

But the point is, it worked for her. And for all the others. Like seriously. That's just how it is for them. I know my cousins, and I know that left to their own devices, they will flounder and end up forever alone. That's just the way it is there.

So when people diss semi-arranged marriages (usually under arranged), it really irks me because I personally know a whole bunch of happily-ever-afters that have resulted from them. Not just that, but who are they to just assume something like that is absolutely awful when they haven't experienced it?

At the same time, I was not brought up the way they were. I was born and raised here, in Oz. As it happens, I did go to co-ed schools, and although I've stuck to abstinence from dating and everything that can ensue from that, I have grown up socialising with guys (still awkwardly, though not that dramatically ^_^ ), and the thought of marrying someone I don't know, even if I've had meetings beforehand, just seems... crazy. Beyond comprehension o.o I mean, I've already said I doubt I can find myself a guy, but I've also thought about what would happen if by chance, I did find someone. would my parents be okay with that?

I mean, I know my dad played guardian for my cousin's love marriage, but I feel like he has a general soft spot for all the things from his village. If it was me and being here - I get the vibe that he'd find it dangerously Western and haraam.

Okay, my parents have an underlying, ingrained racism in them. My dad less than my mother, but it's a thing against Africans, and the way, for a while, the media used to portray them as thugs and stuff. My sister and I, having gone to a seriously multicultural school, were really defensive about this, so in some rather extreme ways of defiance, as a youngster, I used to say that I wouldn't mind marrying an African. Once, my dad actually took me up on this seriously. He said he wouldn't allow it, because an interracial marriage means me and the guy would have had to meet outside of parental supervision, so therefore, something haraam MUST have happened.

NO. This is absolute rubbish, just in case you didn't get that.

It's a traditional view amongst lots of ethnics - not all, but a lot - that 'love' marriages, like arranged to the Westerners, have all the negative connotations, of 'loose' children who do the hanky-panky outside of wedlock.

And so, I'd like to defend 'love marriages' here too. It's entirely possible for you to meet someone of the opposite gender, and do things 'right' - like my cousin - and just marry them before anything goes wrong. Why the heck not? Just becase you end up liking someone, it does not mean your physical bod goes out of control and does inappropriate things immediately. And by preventing two people who are in love from doing things the right way, you're only paving the way for haraam. Just sayin'.

But I feel like you guys already know that, so I don't have much to say on it.

And I know this is long, but I'm going to answer the other question from the Anon about Why I Wouldn't Mind Getting Married Young:

1. I donno, there just seems to be something awkward about getting married old. Personally. To me. It just feels like something better done young.
2. I like the idea of working your life out together with someone, rather than establishing a very independant lifestyle and then having to readjust it to make it work with someone else. I like the idea of finding someone to share the same vision of what you want in the future from the early stages, and then making it happen together. "Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction." (Antoine de Saint-Exupery)
3. I want to be a young mother. Kids are energetic. I would also like to be at a certain peak in my own energy when raising them. Also, the younger you have them, the smaller the age gap is between you, and the better chance you have of relating to them as they grow up. And you can hopefully end up being a young grandmother, and you may even get to be a great-grandmother...! ^_^
4. You know how people like to travel the world and do lots of crazy 'independant' stuff before they get 'tied down' to marriage? I worry that if I travel the world and all the jazz before marriage, my heart will never be content staying put again. I don't want to be constantly plagued with wanderlust when I attempt to raise a family. So going back to the young mother thing, I would rather get married, have the kids, have them grow up to be adults, the whole shebang, and then still be young enough to take on the world with my man, and I won't have any official reason to have to stay put. Also: I hate it when people think of marriage as that 'tied down' thing, like it's some kind of imprisonment. Honestly, if that's how you view marriage, if you really do follow through with it, I pity the person you end up with.
5. Like I said before, I've kept away from dating and all that for all my school life. I will not lie, while I'm not very crush-crazy, it is still a bit hard watching everyone else get swept away by their whirlwind romances... psh, yeah right. I'm actually happy to be away from all the angst -_-' But, a lot of us abstain for so long, and some may feel that way, so why should they have to prolong their loveless life? Why shouldn't they take the first shot at a romance, the halal way, as soon as possible?
6. Finally, if the right person presents himself/herself, why shouldn't we get married straight away? Why should we have to wait, unnecessarily so? WHAT IS THE POINT?!

That's it.

Okay, I can actually talk more on this topic, on a lot of other angles, but I think this is long enough, and I'm tired. Hope your lives are happy, and if you want to share how marriage works in your religion/culture, feel free to share :)

Peace in,
Laila

Ramadan Kareem!

I know this is a bit late, but a combination of illness and ohmyGodtheholidaysareendingandIhavetonnesofhomeworktodo prevented me from writing this. I also was waiting for someone else to write one of these posts, or I donno, something related, but it didn't happen...

Anyway, the point is, to all my Muslim brothers and sisters out there:

... well, I mean, the title said it all.

And to everyone else, well, how are y'all doin'? You know it's much easier to type that than say it. I mean, I just tried saying that, but, erm, it sounds weird. Whatever. It sounds about right in my head.

So for those of you who don't know what Ramadan's all about, I wrote a post about it here, and also, this is one of the first posts of Ghadeer's that I read, and I feel like it just perfectly encapsulates the atmosphere. So now that we're in the spirit, I'ma continue.

I've only been on the blogosphere for two Ramadans, so I don't know if I can actually call this a 'tradition' yet, but both years I set myself a theme. I already had it in mind what I wanted to do this year, but for the aforementioned reason of ohmyGodtheholidaysareendingandIhavetonnesofhomeworktodo, I felt like I couldn't do it because I hadn't done enough research to do this... topic... justice. So insha'allah, I'm saving it for next year.

But I just can't let Ramadan go without Something, you know? So I just decided I'll put up random stuff every week or so. Maybe. I don't know.

Well, whatever, I was just looking for an excuse to share this video:

(OH, um, just in case you get ideas by that title, it's not in any way putting down Jesus or anything. I mean, duh, we believe in him too. Maybe differently, but still with the same respect we give Muhammad (SAW) )

Okay, I confess, I sort'vemaybe am a littlebitinlove with him. His name is Kamal Saleh, and this year he was at the annual Mercy Mission/Al Kauthar conference - this one being 'Twins of Faith'. I, however, knew him from earlier on from this video my older sister's non-Muslm friend showed us - one on love and marriage. I was star-struck then, but even more so when that awful 'Innocence of Muslims' video showed up. If you check out my 'Better View' page (does anyone check that out?), I put his response video up there then. I just love that he has all the right words, all the right knowledge. Me? I was on the verge of posting my own response to that video, but I knew I'd just go insane with rage, and it'd come out a little like this:

... and we had enough crazy Muslims on the loose.

So I let Kamal do his thing and I fell in love with him. The best part, the best part is - I didn't actually go to the Twins of Faith thing, because it was too expensive for us this year, and I didn't volunteer because I thought school would be busy (which it wasn't -_-'). But he was here this year, and my sister got the DVD as a volunteer, and he was just so bashful, in a way, on stage, like, he looked so nervous and gentle and AAAAAGH 

I'MGONNADIE.

Yeah. So now I'm showing you that video, because I think it's just so lovely again, and I wish I could speak so reasonably like that, so eloquently, so knowledgably (that a word?).

Also, I heard this conference (the Mercy Mission/Al Kauthar one - I can never tell which one) touched down in Dubai and Pakistan! You GUYS. Go check it out and when it happens x) If it's the same as the ones here, well, they're superdy awesome.

Just some random scenes from this Ramadan:

Haloomi does her first ever full day fast:
My mother has just come home from work, and we're setting the table for iftar. She's flicking through some letters.
"Ma, Haloomi didn't break her fast," I say.
"Mhm," she says absentmindedly. "It's okay. It's just her first one. She's still little."
"Ma," I say. "She didn't break her fast."
She freezes. Looks up at me slowly. Stares. Gawks.
"Are you sure? Really? Truly? Are you sure she's not lying?" All the words tumble out at once, and I'm all like way to have faith in your kids.
But I'm pleased, because Louise has come over for iftar with her girls, and I can hear my mother speaking proudly, and it makes me proud because these are the things she won't say to our face. For example:
To me: Why don't you ever study? You're so lazy! Do you know soandso's daughter/son wakes up at 7am to study, and doesn't stop studying even past midnight? But look at you, reading, sleeping at 10! Shame, shame, shame!
To her friends: Yeah, my Laila, she's so organised, she always brings home good grades, masha'allah, she wakes up on time, and sleeps on time, and she does all her study within organised times, and she's trying to be healthy too...

So when I hear her bragging, it makes me so happy :)

My mother babys my older cousin, who's like twentysomething:
If there's food on the stove, all cooked, it's just expected that we (my sisters and I) come and serve ourselves and eat up on time. My cousin, on the other hand, has to be told. She needs to wake him up to go to work or uni, but I have to set my own alarm. It's no big deal, but she just treats him like her ickle baby, and I'm like, woman, if you miss babying, have another kid - your nephew is a MAN. Stop spoonfeeding him.
So the other night, she was at work and she was to come home after iftar. She told us to pack some food for my cousin before he went to work. He was all like 'nah, I'll have it when I come back.' I packed it anyway, I put it on the table, I told him to humour me, humour my mother, but he just waved us off. My older sister was like 'what're we going to do? Mother's going to kill us.'
I was like, 'Leave it on the table so she can see that we did our bit.'
So mother comes home, and I point it out, and tell her just that. She stares at it for a moment, then looks at us with disbelief. 
"Are you serious?" she snaps. "That's all you packed him?"

And now I'm going to go and not stay up late reading thus resulting in my waking up late and doing everything late so that homework starts at 4pm and even then I'll be watching Superwoman videos. No, no. That will not happen.

Wishing y'all happy days (Y'ALL. It just sounds so BIZARRE.) and lots of hugs. And patience and yummy food. 

Peace in,
Laila

Something In Between

I don't want my blog to die, but all I want to do is whine. I mean, I expect an explosion in the future - the very near future in fact - so you can all hear me whine then. But until then, to pass the time, I thought I'd post that speech I did last year, for the Youth of the Year thingamabob. Some stuff is censored, for Security Purposes *dun dun dunnnn*.

(Also note, the speech was cut down and edited a lot, partially to fit the timing, and partially to avoid 'religious dogma' *echhem* The guy behind it that it would be safer to tie the topic back to multiculturalism... so I did.) 

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. My name is [Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore Laila N Mysis], and I’m a student from [Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry some high school]. To be honest, I was a little freaked out when I found out I had to make a speech, and I had no idea what to say. After much pondering – and more freaking out – I realise I do have one interesting thing that has always given me pride to speak about, and that’s this thing on my head – this headscarf.

I started wearing it in grade four. Some adults get a bit starry eyed when they hear this, but the truth is, I made the move out of jealousy. My sister, in grade six at the time, was told by parents to put it on, and when she did, I was to endure much praise showered on her by my own teacher. In a time when it was cool to be the teacher’s pet, I thought that it was high time my sister get kicked out of the spotlight, so a few days after, I announced to my family that I too was going to wear the hijab, and that was that.

This may sound a little cute, but you can see that it has very little meaning. I had no idea why I was wearing it, I just knew it was something that we did, and it never really bothered me. I was asked a few times by others, and I said that we’re just supposed to hide our hair from boys, but you know, that’s not really an answer.

In year 7, my mother insisted I go to Islamic studies classes. I wasn’t really that interested, but I went along anyway, and I’m glad I did. My teacher gave me the best explanation, and that is what I’m about to share with you.

There was a time in Saudi Arabia where society was solely based on tribal law and male egotism. Women were objects, property much like camels, and survival was based on how much men you could attract, and how fertile you were. If you checked both those boxes, the tribal leader could tell all the tough blokes to sleep with you, because theoretically, that would mean you’d provide more tough guys for the tribe. The sons, therefore, wouldn’t be yours to raise, but the tribe’s. If you had a daughter, more often than not, she would be buried alive. Awful, right?

Then Islam was introduced to the world, and skipping some details, the verse for women to cover up was revealed. People assume many things about this, that we put the onus on women, that we try to hide them, but this is not the case. In fact, hiding them is a pretty ridiculous notion, if you imagine a fully covered female strolling down an Aussie beach on a hot summer’s day. Modesty is only a part of it.

The fact is, the hijab meant more than that. It was liberation. Putting it on meant they were no longer burdened by the awful conventions of the time. It meant they had rights. Rights to be protected and respected, educated and married, financially, physically and emotionally provided for. They had the right to own property, and the right to raise our own kids. Baby girls would no longer be buried alive. In the words of Dr Muhammad Ansari: Islam has raised the status of women from below the Earth to so high that Paradise lies at her feet.

This is exactly what the headscarf means to me - that we women no longer belong to man, but to something much higher. We are not hiding from society – we’re shouting it out, loud and proud.

Grand story, if I may say so myself. That being said, in today’s world, the hijab seems to have lost that meaning, having been used and abused, exploited as a tool of oppression, rather than a symbol of freedom. France has even taken the step to ban it, as I’m sure you would have heard. It seems to me that they think that eliminating this ‘thing’ that stands out is the best way to create a peaceful society.

I think they’re wrong, and I think that [Oompa Loompa Land where we live] is a case in point. I’m proud to be a part of this community. I’m proud to be in a class that holds a dozen or so members of different ethnicities and religions. I’m proud to walk through town, to see different coloured faces, differently dressed people, walking side by side as seamlessly as a river flows. I’m proud to see mosques, churches and temples standing strong in complete serenity. I’m proud to know that a Lions’ Club barbeque will provide halal meat, that the [local] Library provides books in multiple languages, that there’s a whole street dedicated to Little India and the Afghan Bazaar, that on Christmas there’s always a special Carols by Candlelight event, and every year, on the 26^th of January, peoples’ whose origins extend to places from so far away can still all gather together at the same park and celebrate the existence of this beautiful country.

I’m proud to know that I don’t really feel excluded here – I never have, even, so long ago, being the only one in my primary school besides my sister wearing a headscarf. That teacher that I wanted to impress, who first encouraged me to wear it? Your average, run of the mill primary school teacher – not even a Muslim. People have approached me with curiosity, but never with hate. I’ve heard of people who have been racially harassed somewhere sometime, but I myself have not experienced this. 

Some say that in order to live in harmony, we have to put aside our differences. This community has shown that that isn’t necessary – we can keep our differences, showcase them even, it’s just about acceptance and understanding. Rather than trying to bury multiculturalism, or eliminate it as the problem, [where we live] celebrates it, embraces it, and respects it.

As Maya Angelou, a prominent figure in the American Civil Rights Movement, once said: “We all should know that diversity makes for a rich tapestry, and we must understand that all the threads of the tapestry are equal in value no matter what their colour.”

Thank you for listening, and I hope you have a wonderful evening.

Hm. I've been thinking of some positive thoughts, and I came up with this:
1. I've pretty much aced all my SACs so far this year.
2. I have the cutest cat in the world.
3. I got to say 'I told you so' to someone today.
4. I'm reading Quintana of Charyn, which is superdy awesome.
5. I ate two chocolatey things today. 

Peace in,
Laila

What Happened on Saturday the 26th

When I mentioned a 'tragic story' that I would tell two or three blog posts ago, I intended to wait until it actually 'finished' so I had an ending to give to you. But, a combination of Linchy's impatience, an annoying Dutch loony-tune and the slow process of Australia's legal system decided that I would tell it earlier. 

Like, now.

So here goes. It all started with cake. This cake, to be exact:

This was the cake my sister was supposed to make for an akeekah (a religious celebrationy thing for the birth of a baby), but because this typically Curry uncle couldn't be clear on exactly what he wanted, my sister passed the order on to her Amazing teacher. But we were still acting as the in-between people, and so on Saturday morning, when I rolled out of bed - literally - my dad said, 'Come on, we're going to pick up the cake.'

This is because you can't strap a cake box into a car seat. Seatbelts don't hold them. And no one else was around to hold the box - my cousin was at work, my mother was going to take my little sisters swimming, and my older sister was... frolicking in the meadows with flowers in her hair... or whatever it is she does. So it had to be me.

This is kinda irrelevant. Fun facts, you know?

Anyhow, so off we went. Picked up the cake. Dropped off the mother and sisters. On our way home, and then we saw... Louise.

Okay, I donno why I'm calling her Louise, her name is nothing like Louise, and she is nothing like a Louise, but this was the first thing that came to mind.

Who is Louise? you ask. 

Louise is a Pakistani lady that my mother is friends with. She has three daughters, two of whom are twins that are my second sister's age, and that's how my mother met her - through school. This was five years ago, I guess, and back then, Louise didn't speak much English, she wasn't covered and had a strictly cultural perspective on religion. What do I mean by that? Well, for example, she was brought up with the teaching that it was haraam to say the word 'pig'. 

O_O

Yeah. But she was a lovely lady - soft spoken, sweet, genuine - so my mother, as she does, invited her to the Islamic studies class we have at our house. She came, enthusiastically, and masha'allah she was really devoted. For example, you know how some of us... most of us... when we learn something new, religion wise, it takes us a while to implement? We sort've skiddadle and ease our way in? I don't think there's anything wrong with this, so long as you're trying to get there, but Louise - Louise was an immediate I-hear-and-obey. Once she learned that wearing the headscarf was mandatory, as well as the overall dress code, she did it overnight. No beating around the bush or baby steps, just shebang. She's walking out covered top to toe. We were impressed.

Also, though she's soft spoken, she's not what I'd call... shy? Introverted? What I mean to say is, despite the difficulties of language barriers, she was never the type to sit and be at home. Like, the streets where we live are connected to a main road, and we'd forever see her up and down this road, at a bus stop or walking somewhere with her youngest. She drops her kids off to school, and then takes the youngest to the library, or to different shopping centres where they have kids activities and stuff, etc. She basically adjusted to the country, learning to use the public transport system, and really improving on her English too.

So, back to Saturday. 

Saturday we saw Louise at a bus stop, as usual, with her three daughters, and there were these two guys with her. She waved when we drove past, and at first we thought it was just that. But then, looking in the rearview mirror, we realised that she was waving us over.

"She wants to talk to me," my dad said vaguely, pulling a U-turn and parking on the opposite side of the road, across from the bus stop. Then he said something that I can't ever forget, just because I don't understand how he could have possibly known. "Her husband is a peculiar fellow."

Weird, right?

So you may have noticed that I have failed to mention her hubby so far. Generally speaking, I assumed she was that independant because her husband works. After all, there were times, very early on, where he wouldn't even be around for Eid. That's big for me, because I don't know - even if families don't go out of their way to celebrate crazily, Eid has always been emphasized as at least a family event. So him not being in the picture around that time was just weird... but that just meant my mother invited Louise and her daughters to spend Eid with us.

But we did meet him - he was present one Eid, and they visited us. I think we also invited them to a dinner once, and they invited us too. I've never personally met the guy, but my father had, and somehow he knew, I guess.

So. My dad got out of the van, crossed the road, and a conversation ensued. At this point, the two guys that were with her had left. I was stuck in the van, belted to my seat, weighed down by the stupid cake box, my neck craned awkwardly to watch the episode unfold.  They talked for a Long Time, and then, the police showed up.

It was all I could do to stop myself throwing the cake and making a break for it. I really wanted to know what was up, but it was the main road, so I couldn't hear over the traffic. Another Long conversation went on, and then something kinda weird happened. The police got into their car, pulled a U-turn, drove just a little way down the main road - like one block down - and parked in front of a car. They got out, tapped on the window, and Louise's husband got out.

Now, doesn't that strike you as a leetle creepy? There they were, mummy and the girls at the bus stop, and a little way away, daddy's watching them in the car. He'd been there the whole time, I just hadn't noticed. It's not something you expect to see, after all. But anyhow, another conversation took place, with arm waving and sombre nods, before one of the policemen turned around and strolled back to my dad and Louise, and then I heard him say 'you can go.' After some more words I couldn't hear, Louise and her daughters crossed the road with my dad, and they got into our van.

Is the suspense killing you? It should be. It killed me.

Now, how do I say this? Well, basically... her husband is an abusive prat. Prat doesn't even describe it, but I'm not sure I can think of a better word.

Some my father explained to me, some I heard from Louise as she spoke on the phone in our house.

So he's an alcoholic, for a start, which is what sparked off the runaway that day. He'd been drinking the night before, and in the morning, he'd exploded. From bits of both sides, he'd wanted to take his daughters swimming, but they said no. They'd started covering up recently - although it's not mandatory at that age, they'd wanted to, and it was kind of a group transformation - my little sister had started with them, as well as another girl in their class. I guess they took it a little more seriously, and so swimming was out of the question. This, for some inexplicable reason, coupled with what I'd assume was a nasty hangover, made him explode.

On the phone, Louise was like: "I don't care if he hurts me, I was patient for 10 years. But he can't touch my daughters."

When I heard that, I had to go to my room and cry. 

That, and watching my mother hold her while she cried, having held back the tears in front of her girls.

So in between moments of his fury, she managed to call the police from her house. But then she realised it was too dangerous to stay, and having her bags packed already, plus a list of important phone numbers ready, she took the girls and left. He thought she'd come back 'cause she had nowhere to go, so he let her. For a while, she hadn't the slightest idea of what to do, and she'd sat with her daughters at the bus stop, before she realised the police would go to her house, and what good would that be, if she was out here? So that's where the two guys came in - she asked them if she could use a phone, and that's round about where we showed up.

So yeah, 10 years of abuse that she put up with, because, for one - and a lot of women do this, from what I know - she thought that it was better for the kids to have a 'whole' family, never mind how broken. Because he didn't hurt her daughters before, she took it. Also, another popular misconception: she was under the impression she had to be a slave to her husband. 

This is where I get to gloat about how awesome Islam really is. Coming to the classes, Louise started learning stuff, more than just stuff about dress codes and saying the word 'pig'. She learnt about her rights.

She learnt that her husband owed her a duty of care - he had to provide for her and the kids. From what I heard on the phone, he always said he was looking for work and that he just never had the money. He wouldn't pay for necessities like clothes and food, unless he felt like it, but oh, when he wanted to engage in some obscure kind of business, suddenly there it was. Also, although Louise learnt to drive and had a license - something none of us knew - he never bought her a car either, nor gave her the right to use his. So this is why she walked everywhere, and took public transport - no vehicle, and the need to get away.

And she learnt that she obedience to her husband was conditional. If it wasn't within the confines of Islam, then she wasn't obligated to listen.

(I'm sorry this is going back and forth - some things I learnt later, some then and there, etc :/ )

Okay, so one thing that annoyed him was religion itself. When she first started covering up, it annoyed him, so when her daughters started, she thought it was safer to keep it a secret from him. Another reason why he exploded. Also, before she'd started prepping to leave, she had tried to educate him first, to give him a chance. I had thought it was just a general thing, when she started borrowing some of our Islamic books, but now I know it was bigger than that. So anyhow, that morning, apparently he yelled that if she wanted to get all religious on him, she had to obey him because that was what Islam taught too. 

And she told him, quite simply, that no - she didn't have to obey him, her duty was only to God.

And that, in the end, was what prompted her to leave, as well as giving her the strength to leave.

So anyway, after making a number of calls to organisations that helped in this situation, my parents took her to the police station, where she was eventually taken to an undisclosed safe house. It was all so ninja - we didn't know where the house was, and we couldn't contact her either. We had wanted her to stay with us, but she said she couldn't because - to paraphrase - her husband was a lunatic, and he knew where we lived. She said he'd show up, and if she was there, there'd be trouble. So she went off to her mysterious location, with the kiddies...

... and yeah, he showed up.

Gosh, he was such a smooth talker. I shamelessly eavesdropped, imagining many violent situations where I murdered him, while he told my father how he Louise had been exaggerating, he didn't know where this whole thing had come from, he was personally just hurt that she'd been doing things behind his back, with regards to raising the kids. Man, he was just worried, learning now that his daughters wore the headscarf - why didn't she talk about it with him? They were too young! What if kids started bullying them at school, calling them terrorists and such? How could she do this to him, he worked so hard to maintain the family, all he wanted to do was spend time with them and she was stopping him, blah blah blah blah BLAHHHHH.

How do I/we see through this?

Some things. Firstly, the whole daughters wearing headscarf thing. Yes, they are young. But it was something they wanted to do, were proud to do, and why was he discouraging it? Is it really something worth screaming over? And worrying about racism... ugh. I really want to just say, we live in [insertcitywelivein]. You say that around here, and everyone rolls their eyes, because we have a reputation for our mulitculturalism. Muslims dominate. Calling someone a terrorist would earn you a punishment, not the person you insulted. What the heck was he thinking?

As for spending time with them: he is never around. He doesn't pick them up from school, he doesn't drop them off, and as I said before, he wasn't even around for Eid. He never contributes, but apparently she's keeping them from him because she does everything for them?

And for all his precious words about the pain she caused him, nothing justifies abuse. Whether it was mild or serious, he does not have that right to hurt her so. And just let him explain the tears of his daughters, why dontcha?

But anyway, while I fumed away, my dad showed his awesome. Firstly, with regards to the upbringing of the kids, and how she doesn't let him raise them:

"Look, I understand where you're coming from, but this isn't something to be angry about," he said. "Your daughters - they're in my daughter's class. I've been to the school. I know what they say about them. They say your daughters are angels. They have a wonderful reputation, masha'allah - smart and good and everything. And all this is credit to your wife. Okay, you want to help raise them, you can work that out in the future. But don't be furious at what she's done for them - you should be proud." 

Something to that effect :) And then this: 

"Okay, brother, I've heard your side of the story. I listened to her side as well. And I don't know, maybe you're right, maybe she is. But you know what else? When I was with her, at the bus stop, I looked at your daughters, and I asked them about you. And never in my life have I seen kids so close to their mother. They were crying and scared when I just said the word 'father'. So what am I supposed to think now?"

Yeah, so my dad handled him rather well, if I may say so myself. He went home, left us to it, realising we didn't know where she was. Later he would call on us a few times, checking to see if we knew anything. Likewise, Louise would contact us, checking up on him.

What I was superdy pleased to say was Louise never showed any sign of weakness. A lot of women, going through this, sometimes have doubts. They think they're doing the wrong thing, they want to contact their husband, etc. But Louise never let up. We had our 'sisterhood' keep tabs on her, making sure she was okay and stuff. My mother was once swayed a little by her hubby's smooth talking, and was like: 'Would you take him back, if he changed? He says he's suffering.'

And she was like: 'Let him suffer.'

Anyway, since then, we've sort've been pushed to the sidelines. Louise stayed in the safe house for ages - her daughters didn't start school on the first week or so. We heard that her husband waited outside the school for a while, but when they did start, the school was informed so the girls were taken care of.

And then, court procedures. These take forever mind you, and they're still ongoing. I don't know all the details, and I expect much of it is a bore, but there are some interesting side notes. For one, Louise's father has long since passed away, so she also felt she never had that back up protection to leave. But she started informing her mother, and much like in The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, she told her daughter to record evidence of the abuse. I don't know what she taped, don't really want to know, but hey, I'm impressed that she could do that.  Also, her husband - I guess I should start calling him her ex - being his creepy self, apparently had been calling around for ages, trying to figure out where she was. He talked to all the family friends and stuff, and eventually started a campaign against her, in their neighbourhood. And I know this sounds weird, but I found it hilarious.

What did he do, you wonder? Well, he convinced his neighbour to testify that apparently Louise was attending classes - our classes, mind you - that were so extremist, they had connections with the Taliban.

I know I shouldn't be LOL-ing, but I did. I just can't believe he's that desperate. I'm connected to the Taliban, guys. Something new to add to my resume. I'm sure my peers will be impressed.  *insert major eye roll*

Okay, so I know this is long, but I have to put this here. Remember I mentioned a Dutch loony-tune? Well, this is what prompted me to put this post up before the court case actually ended. This guy is that typical Islamaphobic idiot. He's in Australia now, stirring up all sorts of controversy, basically being a raving lunatic. It angers me to listen to people like that, but mostly it makes me sick - and I mean, seriously pained. I don't know... I just feel awful when there are people who say such wrong things, and others lap it up, and there's nothing I can do about it. But I'm going to do it here, even if this isn't really relevant to most of you, not being an Aussie audience affected by this colourfulword.

One of the things he said was that when Big Bad Islam Takes Over The World, women and children will be the first to suffer... and he went on to talk about that typical crazy Islam-oppresses-women rubbish.

Well, Louise's story is a case in point why that's rubbish. Islam was what taught her her rights. Islam was what gave her that strength to stand up for herself. Our little sisterhood was what gave her strength. God was what gave her that strength. So who does this guy think he is, saying that stuff?

But also, Louise's story also shows that knowledge is power. All the stuff she didn't know was what allowed her to be pushed about by her ex, what made her think that this was what she was meant to do, to submit to all the bad things he did. It was all the years of studying, learning her rights, then learning how to deal with it that helped her get through. She's still so soft-spoken, but gosh she's one of the strongest women I know.

So despite the elements of tragedy, it's not really a tragic story. I think the tragedy let Louise shine, more than anything.

That is all. There'll be a lot of mistakes through here, but I eez tired, and it's late. Ta.

Peace in,
Laila