by S. Nahar
The struggles the Muslims faced would soon be mine as well. If I converted, my whole life would change.
“Oh God, tell me what to do?” I whispered, as I leaned my head against the wheel.
Was converting to Islam really worth everything I might sacrifice in the end? Could I honestly make this decision and not regret it?
“Please, help me,” I begged to Allah.
Would He even hear the prayer of a non-Muslim?
Knock! Knock!
I lifted my head from the steering wheel, meeting the blurry image of an elderly man with a long graying beard and white hat sitting proudly on his head like a crown. Amira called it a kufi once, something Muslim men would wear to prayer. I noticed the silky white garment that fell to his ankles, a sharp collar lining his neck and cuffs at his wrists.
He gently tapped on my window, moving his mouth even though the sound was muffled through my windows.
I rolled them down.
“Sir, your car has smoke coming out of it,” he said with concern etched on his face.
I got out of my car. The old man was right. Smoke was flaring out like wings around my car and the dark gray clouds were drowning us in their toxic scent. We both coughed as it intensified. The engine was burning, and the car made unusual groaning noises like something was about to break.
“Shit,” I muttered, dialing my car mechanic.
“What do you want, Damon?” he answered, groggily.
“Sorry to bother you but I need a favor.”
***
My car mechanic, Michael, told me he’d send some guys down to bring my car to his shop. Chances were my car would be wrecked for quite some time, leaving me with no options for transport. I wanted to scream at my misfortune, but held myself together.
Stress was wearing me down little by little, until I was just a shell of a human soul who wandered helplessly on haunted streets of shattered and confused people. Luckily, the elderly man offered to take me to wherever I needed, his small act of kindness another reason I felt guilty for ever treating Muslims as horribly as the average American.
I had given them the cold shoulder, the sleeting ice of my eyes, and the freezing touch of my anger. A person like me didn’t deserve to be redeemed by the Muslims, let alone be on the same playing field with them, but my heart still longed for the peace that awaited me, the absolute certainty that came with being faithful in one’s beliefs and holding true to their morals.
“I’m sorry about your car,” he said with his eyes on the road ahead.
I shrugged. “It’s fine. I guess I was so distracted that I didn’t even notice.”
“My name is Dawud.”
I smiled. “I’m Damon.”
The car stopped at a traffic light. Dawud looked at me oddly like I was a strange creature from another planet, dark brown eyes scrutinizing my features. He was as pale as I was, yet he looked different from me, acted different. This man may have looked just like me, but he had wisdom and knowledge far beyond my years.
“Sorry, you look like that white guy from the news earlier. You know the one who defended the Muslims?”
I chuckled. “That was me.”
His eyes widened. The car started moving again as Dawud asked, “Why did you defend Muslims the way you did?”
I looked out the window. The sky was turning into a dull hue of gray, previous storm clouds slowly shifting, and a brilliant orb of light was revealed in its mass of luminosity. I relished the warmth, the pleasing atmosphere after such a traumatic day of worry and uncertainty. Maybe this was Allah’s way of helping me be sure of converting.
“I don’t know. I just remember how immensely angry I was at that crowd. It wasn’t right. That man didn’t deserve to die. Those Muslims did nothing wrong. People will always hate what they cannot understand, but it doesn’t mean they should attack people for their differences.”
He nodded in understanding. “I just haven’t seen young boys like you defending an entire community of Muslims to people who most likely don’t agree with our beliefs.”
I crossed my arms, leaning against the seat. “I think it was mostly because I learned about Islam. I’ve been studying it and I know that Islam isn’t what Westerners think it’s about,” I said softly. “Islam is a blessing from Allah to help mankind maintain their morality, especially during the times where morality has no meaning. Of course, not everyone will agree with that, but it’s just how I’ve come to see it.”
Dawud eyed me for a second before breaking into a grin. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were ready to convert.”
That caught me off guard. “What?”
He smiled warmly at me. “You believe that Allah is the one and only God, right?”
“Of course.”
“Do you believe in the many prophets and their books that Allah sent down to guide us?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe in the Qur’an?”
“Absolutely.”
“Do you believe Muhammad (peace be upon him) is the last messenger of Allah?”
I hesitated. Did I believe in Muhammad (peace be upon him)? It was as if my heart already knew the answer. “Yes, I believe that he is the last messenger of Allah.”
“Congratulations, Damon. You’re now a Muslim. You just have to say the shahada. It’s the testimony of faith,” he grinned widely, showing his pearly white teeth.
I pursued my lips, scratching my neck nervously. “I don’t know if I can be Muslim,” I sighed.
“What’s stopping you?” Dawud frowned, sensing my hesitation.
“Is Islam worth everything I might sacrifice from converting? My family is going to hate me if I become Muslim,” I said disappointed. “How can I sacrifice the people I love for Allah?”
“Damon,” he started softly, “do you want to be a Muslim? If there was no complication, would you become a Muslim for the sake of Allah?”
“Yes, I would become a Muslim for Allah’s sake.”
“Then, don’t worry about your family. Allah will help you sort out that problem. As a parent, it’s impossible to hate your child. Children are a parent’s most precious treasures. Even in anger, our children will be the very soul of our being until the day we die. That’s how large a parent’s love for their child is,” he said with a distant look in his eyes. “Anyway, if you believe Islam is right, then don’t hesitate. Become a Muslim first then deal with the aftermath. There is no reason to wait if your heart already believes.”
I paused. Did I love Allah enough to be a Muslim? Of course I did.
Studying Islam ever since Amira came into my life taught me stuff I never thought religions believed in. The Qur’an has the answers to everything. Yes, it dictated a Muslim’s daily life, but everything that was obligatory for Muslims maintained their sense of morality. It kept their faith strong. Surely, Allah did this to keep His creations pure from a tainted society like today.
In modern era, freedom was throwing their life down the drain as golden pleasure consumed their eyes, a lust for wealth overpowering proper business transactions. In the modern era, people believed that their pride should always be protected if threatened, even if they had to go through great lengths to do it.
Women and men refused to reconnect with one another, a compromise buried within the depths of their polarized mindsets. In Islam, they were taught to communicate, to respect one another because in the eyes of Allah, everyone was equal. No one would have an advantage and no one deserved to be treated disgracefully.
The idea of freedom and modern day had taken a new form. People no longer respected themselves or others. They were not open-minded to people. Stemming from the long lists of mental illnesses, many people were not happy nor were they content when they had everything they ever wanted.
They were depressed, lost, confused.
They had no direction, no purpose, no light in their dark lives.
Islam gave such people a purpose, an end goal to strive for, a comforting prayer
for those days when everything was falling apart. Time and time again, religion had been proven to support those who needed it.
Everything made sense now.
“Could you take me to a mosque?” I asked.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
***
“Say Ashadu Anlaa,” the imam instructed.
“A-Ashadu Anlaa,” I repeated, nervously.
“Illaha,”
“Illaha,” I said. I was really doing it.
“Ilallaah,” he continued.
“Ilallaah.”
“Wa ashadu anna.”
“Wa ashadu anna,” I continued.
“Muhammadur Rasoolillaah,” he finished.
“Muhammadur R-Rasoolillah,” I repeated. My hands were shaking. This was the biggest moment of my life.
The imam grinned. “There is no God but Allah.”
The imam smiled at me encouragingly as I said, “There is no God but Allah.”
“And Muhammad is the messenger of Allah.”
I took a deep breath. After I said this, I would be a Muslim. “And Muhammad is the messenger of Allah.”
The imam embraced me in a bear hug. “Welcome to Islam, Brother Damon,” he grinned.
Other Muslims, men and women, clapped. Brothers one by one were coming up to congratulate me, clapping my back, hugging me, and speaking to me with such pride in their voices that I was left speechless. The imam had given me books about how to pray and the basics of being a Muslim. At that moment, I couldn’t contain my happiness.
This warm welcome, it felt so refreshing and genuine, a brotherhood that tied the bonds of faith with its unbreakable strength and irrevocable faith in Allah. Like those before us, we were a connected community, and I was its newest member. Everyone’s beaming faces reminded me of home, my new home.
Dawud was right. There was no reason to wait if I already believed.
Chapter 52
Five Years
Amira Sarker
I scribbled out some words on my paper as last minute studying for my final exams. When I’m done, then I would officially finish my degree.
Had it really been five years since I graduated? It feels like just yesterday that Tanwir and I moved here. Over the years, Kanza and I, had become inseparable. Of course, I stayed in touch with my high school friends as well; however, Kanza was my first friend here. If it wasn’t for her I wouldn’t have survived college. Now, in a couple days Tanwir and I would be home.
Home.
Now that was a word that I wished I heard sooner. I didn’t realize how much my family meant to me until I moved. It had been hard to only see my mother through the screen of a phone, to only dream of my parents’ loving embraces, and to only hear their voices for short minutes within a day.
Sometimes, I’d stay awake at night wondering why I ever left them. My family meant more to me than life itself. Like a lion pride, we had always stuck together. I was the little bird who left the nest and I paid the price of missing my family for it. It had been worth it, but the dull ache in my chest always came back whenever I heard their soft voices, reprimanding me as if I were in front of them.
“Amira? You ready?” Kanza asked.
I focused my attention back to my notes. “I need like two more minutes,” I said, quickly skimming through my writing.
She rolled her eyes at me. “Girl, you’re literally going to kill yourself before you even take the finals.”
“Shut up,” I glared.
She smirked as she hooked her arm to mine and dragged me away.
“Kanza!” I whispered since we were in a library.
Obviously, she ignored me.
“Kanza, buddy, don’t you want me to pass?” I asked, innocently.
She stopped and gave me a flat look. “I want my friend alive. Now, less talking more walking,”
I groaned. This girl was more bossy than Mum. That alone said a lot.
***
I face palmed as I read through my notes outside of class.
How did I get that wrong?
The one thing I didn’t study for was on the test. How is this even possible?
I hated when teachers said something wouldn’t be on the test and then that same material ended up on the test. It made my head explode. Oh Allah, I’m pretty sure I just failed.
Kanza walked out of the class with slumped shoulders. I opened my mouth to tell her I failed too, but she held a hand up at me. “I swear by Allah, if you say you failed I’ll throw a fit,” she threatened.
I instantly closed my mouth.
She leaned back against the wall, sighing, “Ah, the sweet sound of silence.”
I snorted. “You were just in a quiet room. Shouldn’t you want to hear—”
Kanza covered my mouth. “Why are you ruining such a blissful moment?”
I shoved her hand away. “It’s not blissful if you’re in it,” I said, playfully.
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Isn’t that a little harsh for the sweet Amira?” she taunted back.
“Nothing’s too harsh for me,” I grinned.
“Oh really?” she smirked, playfully. “Not even tickling?” she asked as her fingers suddenly attacked my sides, forcing uncontrollable laughter to escape my lips.
“Stop! You know I’m ticklish!” I exclaimed.
She stopped, smiling brightly. “That’s why I did it, she winked. Kanza walked a couple paces ahead of me until a thought popped back into her brain. She turned back to face me. “Oh, before I forget. Amira, could I have your brother’s number real quick?”
Well, this is new.
“Excuse me?” I asked, as I raised my eyebrows in question.
She shook her head with a small smile. “I swear, it’s not what you think. It’s just that our Imam wants to speak to him about something and told me to give the number to your brother.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. For a second there, I thought you had a crush on Tanwir. “
“Y-Yeah, that’d be weird,” she said, nervously.
I gave her a blank stare. “There’s no way.”
“What?” she snapped with her arms crossed.
“You like Tanwir, don’t you?”
“Pfft no,” she huffed.
I gave her a sly grin. “Mhmm. That’s what they all say.”
“Leave me alone, dork,” she grumbled, as she nudged me.
“I’ll text the number to Tanwir.”
“After you’re done, let’s get ice cream to celebrate.”
“Why?” I asked, confused.
Kanza’s jaw dropped for a bit as if she couldn’t believe what I just asked. “Girl! We just finished our last final. Hello! This calls for a celebration!” she cheerfully exclaimed.
***
Kanza and I, were giggling over the funny pictures we took at the ice cream parlor, reminiscing the times where we had come to the colorful store whenever our mood was in need of being lifted like during final season or excruciating homework days. We tumbled up the stairs of the apartment complex like we were the drunkards of the neighborhood.
We were too engulfed in our friendship to care about what others thought when they heard our foolish laughter.
When I opened the door to the apartment, I was greeted with Tanwir, grinning widely while rapidly speaking on the phone as if he couldn’t contain his excitement.
“He sure is happy,” whispered Kanza whispered.
“I know. It’s kinda weird,” I said quietly, stifling my laugh.
“You’re a terrible sister,” she joked.
I winked. “Nah, I’m the best.”
I gestured for Kanza to go to my room while I made some food for us. Luckily, she complied. I walked over to the kitchen and started making tuna sandwiches, flipping through the fridge for all the ingredients. I softly hummed a tune that was stuck in my head until I heard parts of Tanwir’s conversation. Although his voice had lowered upon seeing us, certain words had caught my attention, and I was reeled
into whatever he was talking about, trying to puzzle the mystery man in my mind.
“I can’t believe he’s a Muslim now. When did this happen?” he asked, excitedly.
Whoa, Tanwir is hardly ever that happy.
“Subhan Allah (glory to God)! Five years already? This boy works fast,” he chuckled.
My hands stilled. Who converted? Instantly, my mind wandered to Damon. Even after five years, Damon still haunted my mind like the ghost of my past. A familiar ache settled itself onto my tender heart, prickling me with inklings of regret for leaving him behind. I had to move on, but I couldn’t.
We had shared our deepest secrets to one another, helped each other change towards a different direction, and encouraged each other to follow our dreams with nothing holding us back. Love would always be there while opportunities flew past.
I remembered his teasing smiles, his husky voice, his forest-green eyes that always managed to knock the air right out of me. I remembered the song he sang for me, the shattered appearance of him when I told him I’d be gone. Islam had always come first, and I still stuck by that belief.
No matter how much my heart longed for Damon, I would have to hold the reins to my self-control. If it was meant to be, Allah would pave a way for us.
“Amira’s going to be so happy. I can’t wait,” Tanwir said.
I leaned against the kitchen doorway, clearing my throat to grab my brother’s attention. Tanwir turned around, startled. Slowly, the corners of his lips tugged upwards, glowing brown eyes beaming with glee.
“My sister deserves someone like that because she’s worth more than anything in the world. She deserves the world and more.”
I shook my head with a smile as I walked up and embraced him. My brother was the only one to say that. I still could not believe how much he’d changed. He used to be so cold and distant like a glacier from afar, but with time, the ice had melted around his heart, and the old Tanwir I knew when we were kids was finally back.
