Then Dad’s soothing voice: “Dina, you have done a fantastic job with Misha. You’ve given her direction, you’ve taught her, you’ve passed on the values we all hold dear. You’ve done your job well. But now Misha needs space to put it all into practice, to make the right choices instead of you making all her choices for her.”
“That’s right, Dina,” added Leona gently. “Can’t you see that all you are doing is weakening the very strength of character you tried so hard to build? We need to be empowering Misha, getting her ready for the big bad world, not trying to hide her from it.”
Mum pressed her lips together and said nothing for a while. She blew her nose and wiped her eyes, then held her head up. “Misha,” she said carefully, turning to face me. “Do you want to come home?”
“Of course I do, Mum!” How could she even ask me that?
“All right, well I suppose that’s a start, isn’t it? Now, let’s talk about how we are going make this work.”
And so we did, everyone contributing to the discussion, everyone sharing their view – it was great, like something out of Supernanny! In the end, it was decided that I would go home with Mum on Sunday, after spending some more time with Dad and the rest of the family. Mum agreed to let me take languages for ‘A’ Level instead of Maths and Sciences. I promised not to lie about where I was any more – and to accept ‘no’ for an answer when I got it.
There were more discussions, more battles to be won and lost, but I knew that we had won the war when Mum agreed, however reluctantly, to allow me to continue seeing Dwayne.
“I talked to the boy, Dina,” said Dad. “I like him. He has a good heart, I know it. You know I can sense these things. Let them see each other in the open where we can make sure that they are safe, y’understand?” And he looked at her meaningfully. That was exactly what Gran had failed to do when Mum had her unsuitable boyfriend – Dad.
Mum swallowed hard, then turned to me. “The two of you will have to use your time together to study,” she said, wagging a finger at me. “You both have exams around the corner – and while you may not need the help, I’m sure Dwayne could use some encouragement and support. And let me tell you this, young lady: I’ll be keeping a very close eye on him. He’d better be on the straight and narrow because if I find out that he’s up to anything, anything, he’ll be out of your life so fast his head will bounce.”
No one knew what to say to that but at last Leona said, “Well, the two of them are welcome here anytime. We had a lovely evening with Dwayne and his little brother on Tuesday and I am sure that Misha would like to have him over again. And I’m certain that he will not disappoint us, not now that he knows what is expected of him.”
I smiled to myself secretly, because I saw Mum look away, a pained expression on her face. Her experience with Dwayne hadn’t been nearly as lovely. Still, for the first time, I began to see how things could work for us. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen about him and Mum but I didn’t want to think about that. Mum was here, I had spoken, she had listened and we had made a decision as a family. I couldn’t ask for more. It was like the dawn of a new era for our family, a new era for me.
Life Changes
DWAYNE
I was well happy when Misha told me she was back at her Mum’s place. And I couldn’t believe it when she said her mum had agreed that we could see each other! What a turnaround!
“But we have to be responsible, Dee,” Misha warned. “We’ve both got coursework due and exams coming up so we need to focus.”
I was feeling that. I had already started on my English coursework and Maths was a breeze now that I had extra tuition at school. But I was still struggling with the other subjects, mainly because I hadn’t paid attention in class for the whole of last year. But I was determined to do my best.
I got rid of my work phone and put the word out that I was out of the game. Some of the mandem took the mick out of me a bit, but they knew that I was rolling with Tony now and they knew what he was on.
“You’re gonna do the Muslim ting, yeah?” they said. “Safe.”
Only Jukkie and Trigger and some of the hardcore Youngers were unimpressed. They thought I’d gone soft.
“Just coz you’re on that Islam stuff don’t mean you have to quit the game, man!” Jukkie said. “‘Nuff man down Myattsfield are Muslim now – but they’re still badmen at the end of the day. Ain’t you heard about dem ‘Muslim Boys’ that are all over the papers? They’re keeping it real, man, not this fake-arse holy mosque crap!”
In a way, Jukkie was right: there were a lot of gangsters that had become Muslim. But they were still on badness – they said that the Qur’an said it was OK to rob from non-Muslims – and their role models were Al-Qa’eda, the ultimate enemies of the system.
“Watch out for that lot,” Tony warned me. “They got a twisted understanding of Islam. Islam ain’t about dealin’ drugs, robbin’, shootin’ and killin’ – then going mosque to pray. It’s a whole lifestyle, y’understand? And you can’t be messing with it. If you’re gonna be a gangster and a thug, go do it. But if you’re gonna be Muslim, you have to come correct.”
“Ya dun know.”
“But what you sayin’, man? We’ve been talking about Islam for weeks now and, so far, you seem to agree with everything I’m telling you. So what’s stopping you from taking your shahadah?”
I took a deep breath. This was the moment of truth. “Well, I’ve read everything you’ve given me about Islam and it all sounds good, y’get me.”
Tony started grinning like crazy then. “Masha Allah, bro...”
“But I don’t know whether I’m ready to come correct, like you say. I don’t know whether I’m ready to pray five times a day and grow a beard and all that. I don’t really care about the booze and the bacon any more – but what about my music, and my girl, Misha..?”
“Don’t worry about all that now, Dee,” Tony said. “That’s just Shaitaan whispering to you, trying to make you doubt what you know is the truth. At the end of the day, if you believe in the fundamentals, in the basics, you should take your shahadah, innit. You can work on the rest later...”
“What do you mean, ‘the basics’?”
“I mean, if you believe in Allah and you believe that the Prophet Muhammad was his prophet, you should take your shahadah. That way, if you die tomorrow, you will die as a Muslim.”
I laughed. “Woah, I ain’t plannin’ on dyin’ any time soon!”
But Tony was dead serious. “Bro, no one plans on dyin’. You know that. Think of that kid who was shot down in Streatham – do you think he was planning on dying that day? No way! Allah decrees when our time is up, bro.”
And I suddenly realised that this ting was deadly serious. This was a commitment I was making to obey God – Allah – and to live a righteous life. This was not some joke ting. This was about my life now – and the one after death, the Afterlife.
I agreed to go down to the mosque with Tony. I could feel this fizzing inside me, this excitement that was building up and making me jittery. The other brothers were hyped up, happy to witness a new shahadah.
There were all races there – black, white, Asian, Somali, even a Chinese-looking bredder. ‘Nuff of them shook my hand, hugged me, asking me all sorts of questions.
“Where are you from, bro?”
“This your first time in a masjid?”
“You thinking about becoming Muslim?”
Tony laughed and told them to take it easy. “He’s ready to take his shahadah, alhamdulillah, not play 20 questions!”
The leader of the mosque, Imam Abdullah, sat down with me on the carpeted floor. He asked me what I knew about Islam, whether I believed in Allah, in all the messengers, in all the holy scriptures – the Torah, the Bible, the Qur’an. Whether I believed in the angels, and the divine decree, and the Last Day, Judgement Day. I said yes to it all even though I hadn’t read up on everything in that much detail. What I knew for sure was that I believed in God – Allah �
� and that the Prophet Muhammad had been sent with a message to guide mankind to righteousness. And for the first time, I wanted that, more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life.
“OK then, repeat after me: Ash-hadu ...”
I stumbled over the unfamiliar Arabic words as I repeated the testimony of faith: “Ash-hadu an laa ilaah illAllah wa ash-hadu ana Muhammadan ‘abduhu wa rasulu. I believe that there is no god worthy of worship except Allah, and I believe that Muhammad is His slave and messenger.”
“Masha Allah, brother, welcome to Islam!” The imam beamed and gave me a huge bear hug, clapping me on the back. Tony was grinning too and had to hide his face when he came to shake my hand and embrace me.
“Bro,” he said, all choked up, “I’m so happy, man. I’m so happy for you. Allahu akbar. God is great.”
“Allahu akbar!” All the other brothers were buzzing too. Everyone wanted to meet me, shake my hand, say ‘Asalaamu alaikum’ and welcome me to Islam. We decided to go get something to eat with a friend of Tony’s, a big brother called Rashid.
By the time we were sitting down in the fried chicken shop on the corner, I knew ‘nuff tings about Rashid. I knew that he had grown up in a foster home and had been in and out of prison and remand centres since he was 11 years old. He had been part of the PDC and been busted for armed robbery. He accepted Islam in prison. Since then, he’d tried to steer clear of the gang life and get involved in youth work.
“What was it like for you inside, man?” I wanted to know.
“You know, at night, when I was lying in that cell, all on my own, I used to look up at the ceiling and think, ‘why did this happen to me? Why me? ‘Nuff man out there on badness, why was I the one who got caught?’”
“True dat,” I said, thinking of all the stuff Tony had managed to get away with.
“It’s the little things that you miss when you’re inside, y’know. It’s the freedom to go where you like, to see who you like, or not see anyone. Being in jail wears you down, man. Unless you have something to hold onto, something to believe in. You know what I used to think about? I used to repeat this little verse from the Qur’an: ‘Allah does not change the condition of a people until they change what is in themselves.’ That was when I decided that I was going to come out of jail a better person. That I was gonna change my life...”
“But it can’t be that easy though,” I interrupted. “When you try to make a change, bare man wanna drag you down, innit.”
“Yeah, boy, and what they’re saying sounds good still,” Tony agreed. “‘Come with us,’ they say, ‘we know where to get some food, just one last time, just to get yourself on your feet. Ain’t you tired of going college? Don’t you need some money? How can a man live on £100 a week? Come on, man, don’t be a chief, we’ll hook you up, we know where the best stuff is...’ On and on they keep chattin’, like devils, trying to drag man down.”
“Bro, how do you manage? How do you resist all that?” I couldn’t imagine the kind of pressure Tony had been under since he started practising. Tony was known, y’get me, by ‘nuff people. He was Mr BigMan, the playa, the party man, the man with the cash, spraying champagne everywhere and stuffing bank notes down girls’ bras. That was how everyone knew Tony. I shook my head. What a comedown it must have felt like to him.
Rashid answered the question:
“I fear Allah, man. I know that He brought me out of jail to give me another chance, y’get me. ‘Nuff man go jail and come out worse than before. But Allah protected me from that. He blessed me with some good brothers and we studied the Qur’an together, stayed out of all the madness. And now I’m out, I have to make it work. I’ve got to show some gratitude still and come correct for my wife and my kids.”
“That’s safe, man. It really is.” I was chuffed, y’get me, proud to be a Muslim on the righteous path, like Tony and Rashid.
“Now go have a shower, bro, get clean. All your sins have been forgiven; it’s time to meet your new life!”
That shower, the ghusl that I made in my mum’s house the day I took my shahadah, was one I will never forget. I felt like all my feelings of hopelessness and fear, all the badness I’d ever done, was dissolving in the soapy water and washing away, away, away down the drain. When I stepped out of the bathroom, I literally felt myself glowing: it was as if I could feel hope and newness shining out of my skin.
Jay came running past and stopped dead when he saw me standing outside the bathroom with a towel around my waist. “Yo, Dee, what’s up? You look different.”
“I’m a Muslim now, Jay.”
“Yeah? Safe!” And he ran off to ride his bike with his friend who was waiting at the door.
And no lie, when I looked in the mirror, I could almost see the difference. It was something in my eyes, something about the skin across my forehead. I looked cleansed, like after a baptism, ready for a new chapter of my life to unfold.
‘I’m proud of you, bro.’
‘Thanks. Allahu akbar.’
I was a Muslim. Now all I had to do was live up to the name.
And try to convince Misha.
Convincing Misha about Islam was way harder than I thought it would be. I tried everything: dropping it in conversation, giving her books, sending her links, even inviting her to come down to the mosque when they were having a bazaar. But that had been a disaster and she just wasn’t having it.
“Look, Dwayne,” she said one day, “I’m not going to become a Muslim, OK? I’m a Christian. I was born in the church, raised in the church and I will die in the church. And there is nothing you can tell me that will convince me otherwise.”
“But Misha, you haven’t even given it a chance! At least read the books I’m giving you, innit!” I looked over to the coffee table next to the bookshelf. The pile of books looked exactly the same as it had the last time I was there.
Misha threw her hands in the air and pushed past me towards the front door. “Dwayne, if you’re on a quest to discover the truth, that’s fine, but count me out! I’m perfectly happy as I am and I don’t need someone who only just started reading the Bible to tell me about the true religion!” She opened the door. “I think you’d better go.”
I walked slowly to the door. I was proper disappointed. Why wouldn’t she give Islam a chance? Why was she shutting mans down like this? I leaned over to kiss her goodbye but she turned her head and I ended up kissing air.
“Are you sure Muslims are allowed to kiss?” she said coldly as I walked past her. I turned to say goodbye, to tell her that I would come by tomorrow to study Shakespeare but I didn’t get the chance. She had closed the door in my face.
Feisty, man. Out of order.
When I got back to Saints Hill, I was still bubbling. I never knew Misha could be so hard-headed. She wouldn’t even read a book!
‘She’s afraid, blud.’
‘Afraid of what though, man?’
‘Afraid that it will actually make sense to her – and that she’ll have to rethink some of her ideas. You’re OK because you’re still searching, but Misha? Misha thinks she knows who she is. She’s secure in her identity, y’get me. Learning about Islam is a threat to that. And it’s a threat to the two of you.’
‘Don’t I know that! I never thought Misha could go on so ignorant!
‘Have some faith, innit. Best start hitting the prayer mat in some sujood, asking Allah to guide her or you’re gonna be facing some tough times ahead.’
‘True dat.’
“Hey, Dwayne! Salaam alaikum!”
I spun round to see a girl walking up to me. She was wearing a short puffa jacket with a little scarf on her head, covering her hair. I squinted, trying to work out where I had seen her before.
“Y’alright, Dwayne?” she said in a little girl voice. And straight away I remembered who she was.
“Rachel!” I said, smiling. “Where’ve you been? Haven’t seen you around for time!” Oh, yeah. I remembered Rachel. We’d had a fling in Year 10. She had been proper wild back t
hen.
“I’ve been around, y’know. It’s you who’s been keeping a low profile. I heard that you were seeing some posh girl from down Dulwich sides.”
“But who’s been telling you my business though?” I said, giving her a crooked smile.
‘Easy, Dwayne, easy. You just got asked about your status and you didn’t confirm it or say Misha’s name and, in fact, you changed the subject. And now you’re giving her that smile. Fall back, soldier, fall back. I don’t like this.’
‘I beg you shut up, blud.’
Rachel shrugged her slim little shoulders. “Word gets around, innit.”
“So where’s your man then?”
Rachel laughed and popped her gum. “I ain’t on that no more. I’m on deen now. I’m a Muslim. You know Sean from school? He was giving me da’wah for time.” She touched her little scarf. “We just took shahadah last week, me and my girl, Natalie.”
“Really?” I was impressed. “But are you proper on it though? Do you pray?”
“Of course I pray, man! Do you pray?”
“I’m trying my best, innit. It’s hard to remember all the actions and what to say. But my bredren Tony, he’s teaching me. Insha Allah, I’ll get there.”
“Ain’t that Jukkie’s big brother?”
I nodded.
“Safe. Heard he’s proper on it. Anyway, I’ve got to go; I promised my mum I’d babysit. She’s going out on the razz – these kufars, they’re something else, innit?”
She laughed then, that tinkly laugh of hers, and I began to feel light-headed. “And listen, if you need any help with your prayers, let me know. I’ll come over and help you.” And then she looked me in the eye and something flashed between us.
‘What the hell was that? Did she just give you the look?’
‘I don’t know, blud, swear down! Phew! That was tough! It took all my willpower not to ask her for her number, man!’
‘Astaghfirullah! Chirpsing girls on deen – while you’ve got a girl yourself? Disgusting! You’re a tramp, Dwayne Kingston, a total ho.’
Black Sheep Page 16
