by Umm Zakiyyah
After performing ablution in the bathroom for prayer, Aminah returned her khimaar to her head and again pinned it under her chin to keep the covering in place. She tugged at her sleeves to pull them down, and she buttoned them at the cuffs.
“Durrah!” she called, emerging from the bathroom and walking into the living room.
“Go ahead,” Dee told her from the bedroom, where she and Tamika were talking.
“Durrah,” Aminah warned in frustration. “Just go make wudhoo’,” she told her, referring to the ablution.
Dee groaned irritably. “Just go ahead, Aminah.”
Aminah walked over to the doorway and placed her hands on her hips. “Durrah, just come on.”
Dee rolled her eyes, giving in. “Alright already.”
After Dee came out of the bathroom, she dressed herself in a large khimaar and long skirt. She looked so different that it was difficult for Tamika to believe the young woman dressed in the Arab garb was actually Dee.
Tamika watched as the two friends stood shoulder-to-shoulder and foot-to-foot facing the corner of the living room where her boxes were stacked. While Aminah was in the bathroom, Dee had informed her that Aminah was preparing to pray in a few minutes and that she should not play music or talk too loudly during that time. Tamika had asked if she could watch, having never before seen a Muslim pray, and Dee had told her she thought that was fine. But Tamika had not expected Dee to pray with her, and apparently, Dee had not expected to either.
Aminah raised her hands just above her shoulders, as if in surrender, Tamika observed. She then said something that Tamika could not understand, and Dee did the same. Tamika walked over to the couch and sat down, watching intently, wondering what they were saying, unconsciously admiring how spiritual they appeared. As Aminah’s voice filled the room, Tamika was awestruck by the words that Aminah recited in a manner that reminded Tamika of singing, but she knew it was not. She could not understand what Aminah was saying, but she sensed it was something special, powerful.
As they continued, Tamika found the most interesting position of their prayer the one in which their heads touched the carpet in humble prostration, and she could not help admiring that they were actually praying, praying like she would have never imagined people did, at least not people who lived during modern times, and definitely not students at the university. She felt as if she were watching a special on television about the religious societies of past generations, except it was real, up-close, and unfolding before her eyes.
When Aminah’s voice shook and she began to cry during the recital of the strange words, Tamika was moved, and she found herself empathizing with whatever Aminah was feeling at that moment, sensing tears forming in her own eyes. As they prayed, the room was filled with a calm, peaceful atmosphere that Tamika had never experienced, and she could only imagine what the prayer meant to the friends. She would not have expected that college students even prayed, aside from on a Sunday or when they wanted something badly enough. But Dee and Aminah were actually praying, side by side. Really praying.
Chapter Three
Tamika tapped lightly on Dr. Sanders’s office door before she heard him say come in. She glanced in before actually entering, unsure if she had disturbed him. “Did I interrupt you?”
His face brightened at the sight of her, and he smiled. His eyes peered over the rims of reading glasses as he placed the book he had been reading on his desk. “No, no, please come in,” he welcomed her, gesturing her to sit down, removing his glasses.
Tamika would have waited until Wednesday’s class to inform him of her research topic, but she did not want to risk anyone else overhearing. It was likely not a big deal, she knew, but she disliked her classmates knowing more than what she wanted to share, even if they would find out later, at least by the time she did her presentation. She was not thrilled about speaking with Dr. Sanders either, but she figured he would be his normal self, and she hoped that he and she could simply move on and forget about what happened. Besides, she could not go on avoiding him, especially if she wanted a good grade in his class.
“How are things going?” he inquired as she sat down.
“Pretty good,” she replied. “I can’t complain.”
“Everything working out okay?”
She knew what he meant. “Yeah, my new roommates are pretty nice.”
“Who are they?”
“Dee Gonzalez and Aminah Ali.”
He raised his eyebrows, impressed. “Good combination.”
“You know them?”
He chuckled, nodding. “Well, everyone knows Miss Gonzalez, but she and Miss Ali were students of mine their first year here. Both of them are very intelligent young women.” He added, “I’m sure they will do well after college, especially Miss Gonzalez.”
“You know her well?” Tamika could not help wondering if he knew she was Muslim.
“As a student.”
Perhaps he was unaware of her religious affiliation, but she was too ashamed to ask. The inquiry would appear out of place, awkward.
“But Miss Ali, she’s a really special person.”
Tamika listened, surprising herself by her interest in what he had to say about Aminah.
“Don’t find many people like her anymore.” He paused then added, “Or her brother.”
“You like him?” She had not intended to ask the question, especially not in the shocked manner in which she had, the inquiry having passed her lips before she could withhold it.
He laughed, scratching the unshaved gray fuzz on one side of his face. “Yes, I do, actually. You know, I’m from the old school,” he explained, smiling. “Our parents were sort of like him, take no stuff, you know.”
Tamika nodded, forcing a smile. Interesting. But she could not say that she shared her professor’s sentiments.
“Why, you know him?”
She shrugged. “I know of him.”
He laughed. “I suppose he’s not everyone’s favorite columnist.”
She did not respond. “Actually,” she began, changing the subject, not wishing to spend her time participating in a discussion about someone she disliked, “I wanted to tell you my topic.”
“Oh,” he raised his eyebrows. “So you decided?” He returned his reading spectacles to the end of his nose, opened a notebook and picked up a pen, waiting.
“I guess I’ll just do it on Islam,” she informed him nonchalantly, avoiding his gaze, not wanting to reveal her sudden interest in finding out about the religion.
After watching Dee and Aminah pray the night before, Tamika had a million questions, but she had withheld, not wanting to appear nosy or irritating. Most people hated lots of inquiries regarding personal matters. But while they prayed once more before going to bed, she listened to Aminah recite the strange words again, and she could not shake the desire to understand what it was they were saying, what they believed, and what made them so content and spiritually connected, if not genuinely righteous. What they had seemed so pure.
Although she was a Christian and believed strongly in her religion, she had never realized there were others (aside from Buddhists) who had any real spiritual inclination. She did not know much about Muslims aside from what the media portrayed of angry Black nationalists, religious fundamentalist men, and oppressed women—nothing like Aminah appeared, and definitely nothing like Dee. Aside from what she had heard, she honestly had no idea what they believed, except that they did not believe Jesus was God but a prophet.
“Okay,” he agreed, no signs of surprise on his face as he jotted down the information. “Just make sure you have your note cards by Friday.”
She nodded.
“And if you need anything, just let me know. As you can see,” he told her, gesturing his head and hand toward his bookshelves, “I have plenty of books.”
“On Islam?”
“On everything.”
Oh, of course. He had a doctorate in religion. “Thanks,” she replied eyeing his library of books.
> “No problem.”
There was a long pause as Tamika’s eyes grazed the shelves, her mind less on the books than on the question she wanted to ask, her curiosity now burning inside. She searched her thoughts for any idea as to how she could inquire while appearing insouciant.
“So you studied Islam too?” she asked finally, hoping her voice sounded as disinterested as possible.
“Sure I have,” he replied, no signs of suspicion in his voice. Tamika took this as an indication that she should delve further.
“What do you know about it?” That was a general question, she decided—she hoped.
He chuckled. “Well, lots.”
She waited, hoping he would continue. Her ears waited intently while her eyes still skimmed the shelves, refusing to meet his.
“It’s a pretty vast religion, I must say.”
“Really?” She now turned to him, glancing at him then to her skirt, dusting something from it, something she did not see, utilizing the gesture to conceal her curiosity. “What do you think of it?”
He chuckled again, but more thoughtfully this time. “I actually admire it a great deal.”
“You do?” She hoped she did not sound as astounded as she really was.
“Yes, I do actually,” he replied honestly, eyes sincere, deep in thought. He forced laughter. “Considered joining it for a second.”
Taken aback by the confession, Tamika’s eyes widened, unable to keep from looking at him, but he did not meet her gaze.
“But I, uh,” he explained, toying with his gray fuzz of a beard then scratching it, “just grew out of it I suppose.”
“Why?” She was shocked, but she did not quite understand why she felt this way.
He forced laughter again, now leaning back in his chair ponderingly. “I guess I just started to appreciate the good in all religions.”
“Were you ever Christian?”
Dr. Sanders’s eyebrows rose. The question surprised him, but his affable expression did not leave his face. “Born and raised,” he replied as if she should have known.
“You don’t believe it anymore?” Tamika inquired in disappointment, suddenly feeling both hurt and defensive.
He sighed, considering the inquiry, then nodded. “I suppose you can say that.” He paused then continued, “I was very serious at first.” He chuckled, shaking his head as he recalled. “’Was in the junior ministry and was actually planning to become a full-fledged minister.”
“Really?” Tamika would have never guessed. “What happened?” She could not imagine a person turning away from the religion after treading such a worthwhile path.
“Read a bit,” he told her with a half smile. “Had a lot of questions, and,” he breathed broodingly, “I suppose you can say I didn’t feel comfortable teaching something I didn’t understand myself.”
She was silent, in her heart relating—empathizing, but not wanting to.
“Then I started reading about other religions, and it really opened my eyes.”
Tamika nodded, listening, the intensity of the implications sinking in. “How so?” She no longer cared if her keen interest was apparent. She was drawn in.
“Well, for one,” he replied in a matter-of-fact manner, “it made me realize there was something else out there.” He forced laughter. “As a teenager, I never knew that others even had any real beliefs. I had thought of the people of the world as belonging to either one of two groups.” He smiled, shaking his head as he remembered his ignorance. “The Christians and the heathens.” He chuckled. “I wanted to bring the lost and the blind back to God’s path.”
She swallowed, their similarities scaring her.
“But I mean,” he said, shaking his head reflectively, “you read a bit and realize that’s just not how it is.”
“So, uh,” she began, clearing her throat, hesitant to ask about that which she did not want to hear, but she needed some answers. “What do you think now?”
“You mean religiously?”
“Yeah.”
He chuckled self-consciously. “I’m not sure if I have a religion really,” he told her honestly. “But I believe in God and just kind of take the good from all religions, you know, like I was saying earlier.”
“So you don’t believe Jesus is God?” Tamika inquired, stunned, too engulfed in her own shock to realize that the question may have been too personal.
He forced a smile and replied almost apologetically, “No, not anymore.”
Tamika left Dr. Sanders’s office in a daze, pondering what her professor had said. She was not well-read on any religion, not even her own, but she could not help agreeing that there had to be some explanation for the presence of other religions, especially if hers was in fact true, as she had been taught and believed. At times, she had been curious and wondered what other religions believed, but her mother had warned her against studying them, saying they would “lead her astray.” But Dr. Sanders’s words pricked at her conscience, uncovering buried questions that had been left unanswered within her for years. What he had stated made sense, and she could actually relate. However, she was skeptical about his “taking the good of every religion.”
Since she was a child, Tamika believed in God, and when she would hear the stories of the prophets of God in the Bible, she was always attentive, a sharp contrast to others her age. The narrations were intriguing—captivating to her, and as she listened, she would imagine the enormity, the power of God’s message, a message entrusted to a few divinely chosen men. She never doubted that the message that God sent was for her, as for all people. Thus, she was never able to accept the idea that the truth, the divine message, was scattered about in various religions, bits and pieces here and there, no faith encompassing it totally. That would mean that each person was left to sift through falsehood and find truth buried under it—somewhere—and forced to put together an impossible puzzle, the completion of which would render different results for each person. That made no sense to her and seemed contradictory to the way of God. Tamika did not think of God as one to play games, one to scatter truth. Even when such was done by a human, this was unacceptable, if not unethical, to people. And if the “scattered truth” theory were correct, it would mean that there were no divinely revealed scriptures, and each book would necessarily have come from other than God. For a book from God had to not only be flawless, but be found in one place and as the basis of one faith, the foundation of a religion—the true religion. Or, if they believed in divine revelation, the holders of the “scattered truth” theory had to believe that God had revealed books and intentionally tricked His creatures by placing only part of the truth in each of them and the other parts elsewhere. And Tamika could not—would not—accept that God would ever do such a thing.
“Hey, Tamika!”
Tamika, who had left Dr. Sanders’s office a few minutes before and was walking across campus on her way to lunch, turned and found Makisha walking swiftly to catch up with her.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing much, you?”
“Nothin’ much,” Makisha shrugged. “You eat?”
“I’m about to now.”
“Oh, good, me too.” She paused, walking next to Tamika now. “You move in okay?”
Tamika nodded. “Yeah, but I still have to unpack a lot of stuff.”
“You like your new roommate?”
Oh, Tamika had forgotten to tell Makisha. “They’re okay.”
“They?”
“I live in Steward, remember?”
Makisha wrinkled her nose. “Oh yeah. That’s messed up.” She paused. “Anyone I know?”
“Yeah.”
“Who?”
“Dee Gonzalez.”
“Dee!” she repeated in disgust. “How did that happen?”
Tamika shrugged, ignoring her friend. She was actually beginning to like Dee, having admired her for some time anyway. “She’s actually cool.”
Makisha stared at Tamika in amazement. “Girl, you crazy.”
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Tamika could see right through her best friend. Makisha was steaming with envy of Dee, who likely did not even know Makisha, let alone have time to give her a reason to dislike her. “But I don’t know if you know the other girl.”
“Who?”
“Aminah Ali.”
“Sulayman’s sister?”
“Yeah.”
Makisha contorted her face. “I know her.”
“You do?” Tamika had never heard Makisha mention her before.
“Yeah,” Makisha told her, waving her hand to underscore the insignificance of the knowledge. “She was in the Chemistry Club for a second.”
“She’s majoring in chemistry too?”
“Heck if I know,” she replied, rolling her eyes, not wanting to appear as if she paid Aminah any attention. “But I do know she ain’t too different from her brother.”
Judging from her response, Tamika doubted if Makisha had ever talked to Aminah before. It was not unlike Makisha to exaggerate her knowledge of a person if she did not like her.
Tamika opened the door to the cafeteria and entered, Makisha behind her, the noise level immediately rising as they entered the crowded food court.
“What’re you gonna have?” Makisha inquired as they made their way to the line, each taking a dull orange plastic tray.
“A burger and fries probably.”
“I think I might have chicken.”
Tamika felt a hand on her shoulder, and she glanced behind her.
“Hey, Tamika!” Dee greeted, her tan face covered in a large smile, revealing her white teeth.
“Oh, hi Dee, what’s up?” Tamika replied, now turning around, as did Makisha.
“Just coming to grab a bite before class. You?”
“Same here.”
“And what’s your name?” Dee asked politely, noticing a young woman standing next to Tamika.
