'I killed a muslim boy' story by Fatima Asmal- story shortened.
Rehana looked up from her cup of tea, & shook her head disapprovingly.
Clad in her tightest pair of fitted blue jeans, beige clogs, & a transparent white cropped top, which barely covered her chest, let alone her tummy, Rehana thought her daughter looked…
“Disgusting.” She bit back her anger & tried to sound calm.
Tasneem shot her mother a furious look. “Who asked YOU? Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
“Tasneem, you make it seem as if I’m picking on you. But I’m not. At the end of the day my advice is only for your own... -”
“Yes, yes, for my own good – save the speech for someone else Mummy. As you might have noticed, it was lost on me yesterday & the day before & the day before, so just put a lid on it now will you?”
Rehana shook her head again, at a loss for words. She looked in her husband’s direction, pleadingly. But he sat at the table, cup of coffee in one hand, newspaper in the other, engrossed in the sports pages. Perhaps he’s pretending, she thought. Like me he’s probably fed up with the endless arguments.
“I’ll be late, have evening lectures, so don’t ring me 20 000 times, nagging me.”
“Tasneem.” Thankfully, this time, Iqbal did intervene.
Listen to your mother & sit down. Unless of course you want your car to be taken away from your for a while.”
“Okay, okay, I hear you.” Tasneem grudgingly put her bag down, & pulled a chair opposite her mother
Rehana smiled at her daughter. “I don’t mean to push you into doing anything you don’t want to do Tasneem. I’m not asking you to cover your face or anything like that. In fact, lately I haven’t even asked you to cover your hair. With the way You’ve been dressing lately, I’d be happy if you just wore longer tops & looser trousers.”
Tasneem sighed. “Look Mummy, we only live once. You had your fun –I’m not stupid. The whole family knows you & Daddy met at campus –& don’t tell me you were covering your hair then. So after having your fun, it’s very easy for you to sit back & preach to me.”
Tasneem, you are right, I only started covering my hair after you were born. And yes, I wasn’t a perfect Muslimah at campus – but don’t you see? I regret every minute of it, & that’s why I tried to encourage you to fear Allah from a tender age.”
“Fear of Allah is in the heart Mum. And you can’t judge what’s in my heart.”
Rehana nodded. “But at the same time, we have to project our fear of Allah on the outside too, Tasneem. And there’s a good reason we are instructed to dress modestly. Believe me, you do want a boy to marry you for your inner beauty not for your body.”
Tasneem laughed heartily. “Mummmm, relax. I don’t have a boyfriend, & the last thing I’m thinking of right now is marriage. I just want to have fun, okay? Love you …See you later.”
.... Rehana put her cup of tea down. Once again her daughter had totally missed the point.
Iqbal smiled at her encouragingly. “At least you tried, Ray.” He shook his head sadly. “I gave up ages ago.”
“Oh, I won’t give up. We shouldn’t ever give up.
“Tazzzzz – wow, you look fantastic…” Aaliyah greeted Tasneem at the top of her voice, as they made their way to the campus cafeteria.
Tasneem giggled with delight. “Awww thanks. You look pretty cool yourself,” she said examining her friend’s new hairdo.
“Yeah, you two look great. I stayed up all night, studying for the Ecos test, no time to dress up this morning. I feel quite left out,” moaned Ayesha
“Ooooo Tazzz, look there’s Osama, checking you out again,” Aaliyah shrieked as they seated themselves at a table.
“Aaliyah don’t!” Tasneem rolled her eyes up in disgust.
Tasneem motioned in the direction of the table alongside theirs’. A heavily-bearded student, clad in a crisp white kurtaa, sat there, his face buried in a book.
“Is his name really Osama?” Ayesha asked.
“No silly…Aaliyah just calls him that, cos he’s always dressed in that garb & doing the Jumu’ah khutbahs.”
“Oh, I won’t give up. We shouldn’t ever give up.
“Tazzzzz – wow, you look fantastic…” Aaliyah greeted Tasneem at the top of her voice, as they made their way to the campus cafeteria.
Tasneem giggled with delight. “Awww thanks. You look pretty cool yourself,” she said examining her friend’s new hairdo.
“Yeah, you two look great. I stayed up all night, studying for the Ecos test, no time to dress up this morning. I feel quite left out,” moaned Ayesha
“Ooooo Tazzz, look there’s Osama, checking you out again,” Aaliyah shrieked as they seated themselves at a table.
“Aaliyah don’t!” Tasneem rolled her eyes up in disgust.
Tasneem motioned in the direction of the table alongside theirs’. A heavily-bearded student, clad in a crisp white kurtaa, sat there, his face buried in a book.
“Is his name really Osama?” Ayesha asked.
“No silly…Aaliyah just calls him that, cos he’s always dressed in that garb & doing the Jumu’ah khutbahs.”
Aaliyah cleared her throat & waved her hand up in the air dramatically. “The temporary nature of this life… the frivolity & deception of youth… blah blah blah.”
“Lower your voices,” Ayesha said. “I’m sure he can hear us.”
“Who cares if he does? Serves him right if he does -giving us Muslims a bad name, dressing like that, & always looking at the ground when he’s walking, as if his head is paralysed or something,” Tasneem replied, deliberately craning her neck & raising her voice.
“Hey there’s someone who would look right at home, giving a Jumu’ah khutbah,” laughed Tasneem. She pointed in the direction of the entrance, where a pretty girl, clad in a long-sleeved dress,& a neatly-tied scarf, was standing.
“Who is that Daadi-ma?” laughed Aaliyah.
This time ‘Osama’ definitely heard them. He looked up at the entrance & waved, a smile lighting up his serious expression. “Apaa, over here,” he called.
“What a strange name – ‘Apaa’.”
“Tazz. It’s not her name. It’s Urdu for ‘Big sister,’” Ayesha explained.
“Oh.” Tasneem’s voice reflected her disappointment. “His sister? And here I was thinking that maybe he wasn’t such a goody-goody after all.” She grabbed Aaliyah’s arm. “Come on., .we’d better make it for the English lecture now, if we want to catch an afternoon movie.”
“ Ok.” Aaliyah followed her out of the cafeteria.
“What did you tell your Mum anyway?” Tasneem grinned.
“What else? The usual – evening lectures.”
Tasneem looked up at the sky, as she reversed out of the parking bay, It was a typically beautiful Durban day – ideal for the beach. She turned on the radio, & smiled in delight as she recognised the familiar tune of Britney Spear’s latest hit, ‘Toxic’ She didn’t see him coming.
There was a wave of white in front of her & a female screaming in the background as she slammed her foot on the breaks. It was too late.
“God, no,” Tasneem gasped, barely remembering to turn off the radio as she dragged herself out of the car. “Osama!” She was hysterical now, screaming incoherently & crying as she noticed the blood fast forming a puddle under him. “What have I done? No, no, no.” His sister was on the phone, trying to get medical assistance, her hand clutching her brother’s. “It’s my brother Sohail. We are on the main road outside block B
Tasneem had seen someone die before. But looking at Sohail’s face, she realized that the death of that man, writhing & foaming after a drug overdose outside the night-club was very different to what she was witnessing now, Sohail’s face was serene, & he was smiling up at the sky.
“Sohail, I’m so s-orry,” she stammered. The smile didn’t leave his face.
“Love Allah Sister,” he said, in that same gentle tone which marked his khutbahs. And then without their assistance, he recited the Kalimah 3 times, & closed his eyes.
Tasneem looked up at his sister, afraid. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
“It wasn’t your fault, sister.It’s the Will of Allah Subhanuhu wa Ta’ala."
Tasneem shuddered - the last thing she would be saying was that it was ‘the Will of Allah Subhanuhu wa Ta’ala.’ With a sick feeling in her stomach she recalled her nasty words of that very morning – to her mother, to Azhar (her brother)… & worst of all – in the cafeteria: “… giving us Muslims a bad name, dressing like that, & always looking at the ground when he’s walking, as if his head is paralysed or something…”
“I’m so sorry Sohail,” she whispered again. Suddenly she felt naked. She made an attempt at pulling her flimsy top down towards her stomach, but failed miserably. Sohail’s sister, still crying, reached into her bag, and handed her a long black cardigan.
She felt empty inside – I am giving them a bad name, she thought –Mummy & Daddy & Azhar, & Sohail & his sister… & Islam.. .I am giving them a bad name…
Rehana stroked her daughter’s hair, in an attempt to soothe her. It was well past midnight, but Tasneem lay on her bed, her eyes wide open, still visibly shaken from the events of the day. Rehana thought of the many events which had shaped her own character, & she remembered with certainty that not all of them were pleasant & happy events. Yet it was these very events which had brought her to where she was today: to wearing the hijab, to enrolling for the Islamic studies course, to ُهَّللا .. .to ُهَّللا …
May ُهَّللا Bless that little boy, she thought. In a day, in one sentence, he had managed, effortlessly, to succeed where she & & her husband had not.
That evening, when Tasneem had appeared at the door, clutching the arm of a policewoman, her body wrapped in a cardigan, a scarf tied tightly around her neck, she had uttered the words which made Rehana realize the mistake she and Iqbal had been making, which made her remember how she had hated learning Qur’an as a little girl, because her madrasah teacher would hit her if she didn’t know her sabaq
“Mummy, mummy, I’m so sorry,” Tasneem had been hysterical. Holding on to Rehana, she had sobbed into her shoulder.
“Mummy, I killed a Muslim boy. I was scared. But he told me something before he died Mummy, something nobody had ever said to me before.
He said – he said, “Love Allah Sister.”
I pray Allah makes it easy for us all to love him .
Ma'salaam
Shared from Muhammad faraaz ebrahim dawah emails. To Visit the site click here , for past emails visit here
