by Umm Zakiyyah
Sarah chuckled. “Now, that’s an extreme observation. We haven’t been strangers.”
“Ha, ha, ha. And don’t change the subject.”
She began to feel uncomfortable. “Let’s just say, I’m suffering from an early empty nest syndrome and need the company.”
“Aminah’s gone too?”
“Good as.”
Kate laughed as she checked both directions of traffic before making a left turn onto the street. “Then I’d think you’d be home with her spending quality time.”
Sarah was silent, unsure what to say, but she maintained her smile. “Would it satisfy your curiosity if I made up a story and said I’m divorced and all yours?”
Kate’s eyes grew wide and she glanced at Sarah. “You’re getting a divorce?”
Sarah laughed, her heart pounding. “I never said that.”
“But you are.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you’re not denying it either.”
“I’m not divorced, Kate.”
“I didn’t think you were.”
Sarah exhaled in relief.
“I think you’re getting one.”
She turned to Kate as if she had been slapped, and Kate met her gaze with a triumphant grin.
“So I’m right.”
Sarah felt her head start to pound. “You’re wrong, Kate. Dead wrong.”
“Sarah,” Kate said with a laugh, “you were never a good liar.” There was a long pause, and Sarah knew her sister was still smiling, but she refused to look at her. She focused her attention on staring out the side window. “Remember when you were sneaking off to meet Ismael? It was written all over your face. And that stupid line you gave about talking to colored students to learn about their life.” She laughed, shaking her head. “We may have been strangers for the last twenty years, Sarah, but we’re still sisters. Besides, I’ve been through a zillion relationships, and I can read ‘man trouble’ all over your face.”
Sarah felt herself growing upset, and the familiar anxiety that she had sought to escape was eating at her. There really was nowhere to run. Besides, how could she run from herself?
“Sooo,” Kate said with so much self-assurance that it irritated Sarah, “you want to talk about it?”
“This is what I was afraid of,” Alika said, sighing and placing her glass of water on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Sarah’s house disrupting mine.”
“Alika,” Ismael said in a plea, “I didn’t want to mention it, but I didn’t feel comfortable keeping something like this from you.”
Alika sighed, searching for the right words. “That’s something you can feel comfortable keeping from me.”
“But how? It’s eating me up. I have to talk to someone.”
“Then find a male friend. But not me.”
She saw his confused expression, and she decided to approach the issue differently. “Ismael, if we had been married for five or ten years, or even one, then maybe I can be someone you can confide in about her. But we’re not even really married yet. Our parting is as simple as you saying, ‘I divorce you.’ We wouldn’t even have one month. I’d be like a bad date, gone the next day.”
Ismael appeared surprised that she knew this injunction.
“I talked to Nusaybah and my wali,” she said to satisfy his curiosity. “So I know what we’re doing. It’s like a trial period, no risk if it doesn’t work. About the only thing we can do now is what we’re doing today, have some privacy while we talk.”
Ismael listened.
“But know this, Ismael. This is not a trial for me. To me, we’re married. I already know what it means to sacrifice. I already know what it means to feel torn. I saw my mother, and I saw my stepmother, so I knew what I was getting into. So I don’t worry about what Sarah’s going through. I sympathize, but I don’t worry.”
She paused. “And I don’t really worry about what you’re going through.”
“But this is—”
She put a finger up to stop him. “But I do worry about how you handle it. I don’t mean to be insensitive, but right now, I’m more worried about me than her. If I have to worry about Sarah, then you’re not doing your job, and it makes me think I was wrong about you.”
He creased his forehead. “Wrong about me?”
“Yes. I thought you could handle this.”
“Alika, understand, I’m not saying I can’t handle this. I’m just—”
“You don’t have to say it outright, Ismael. Everything you’re doing, everything you’re saying is saying it for you.” She paused. “You’re practically apologizing between every word. I already know you’re turning over your options. Sarah or Alika. Sarah or Alika. And if my hunch is right, then we can end this now. If you really think Sarah’s actions mean you have to choose, then I misjudged you.”
“My wife left me, Alika. Doesn’t that bother you?”
Alika sighed. “Ismael, if I didn’t believe in Allah, I’d ask you to leave right now and never come back after what you just said.”
Ismael’s face grew more contorted in confusion. “What?”
“Listen to yourself, Ismael. You’re blaming me for your wife’s actions.”
“What?” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe his ears. “Don’t you even care what all this is causing?”
Alika stared at Ismael as if seeing him for the first time. He really didn’t understand. “Do I care?” She shook her head, wanting to laugh out loud but found no humor in it. “Ismael, listen to me, please,” she said in a calm that betrayed the frustration she was feeling right then. “If you want to know if I care, of course I care, if for no other reason than whatever she’s going through, you’re going through, which means, as your wife, I hurt for you. But I’m hurting right now, too, Ismael. I’m scared right now. Sarah’s not the only one who wants to cut and run. I do too sometimes.”
He looked surprised and hurt. “You never mentioned that.”
“That’s my point, Ismael. What good would it do? You married me to build a relationship, and it’s not a good idea to put all my insecurities on the table right now. We’re still getting to know each other, and it won’t do anything but prevent you from getting to know me. Now’s the time to build, to learn each other, talk, laugh, have a good time.”
She went on, “I’m no fool. I know Sarah is having a difficult time, and it hurts me to think of that, especially as I know that most men would drop the new woman in a second to keep their first. And don’t get me wrong, I don’t see that as bad per se, as long as it’s what Allah guided you to. Sometimes we do have to choose, and I can’t blame a man for going with what he knows and has already built than what he doesn’t know and only hopes to build. Stick to what you know. But there’s one problem.” She paused. “You don’t always know, and most times women come back on their own. If you keep running after her, she’ll keep running. And where does that leave me? But if you stand still, after pleading with her, begging her to stay, saying how much you love her, and doing everything you can to make it work, well, then, Ismael, you’ve done your job. Even you said she said no matter what happens, she’s finished with the marriage. If that’s not a sign, then I don’t know what is. You don’t even have to choose. She does. I’m here. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“It means a lot, Alika. It’s just that I don’t want to lose her.”
“And you want to lose me?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“You don’t have to. I already know the answer. But you’re willing to let me go if it means holding on to her. And as much as I hate that knowledge, I do understand. And I can’t explain to you how much that hurts, Ismael. These past weeks feel like a lifetime. I can’t imagine any second wife making it. But who do I talk to if you want to talk about Sarah all day? Who cries for me if you cry for Sarah on my couch? Who is there to comfort me, Ismael, when you make me feel like I’m a trial period on a vacation package?”
His gaze was
on his hands now. “I’m sorry, Alika. I never thought about it like that. I just feel torn.”
“That’s what polygamy is. And you have to find a way to feel torn without disrupting my house or hers. Otherwise, all you are is a tennis ball, and Sarah and I are on opposite sides of the net. And I’d only be throwing back at her what she threw at me. I don’t want a tennis match, Ismael. I want a marriage.”
“But how do I do that?”
“For one, leave her alone for now. Let her heal. Don’t even call. It’s what she expects. I know that’s hard for you, but remember she’s the one who got on a plane, Ismael. If she had at least stayed, I’d say something different. Let her find whatever she’s looking for. If two and a half months pass, and she still isn’t home, then go and fight for her. But not now. And definitely not here in my home.”
They were silent for sometime.
“But how do I know she’ll come back?”
“You don’t. And even if you never met me, you still wouldn’t know. Don’t blame yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But I feel like I did.”
“Sarah is going through a lot right now. Any woman would be, including me. I saw the same in my mother. And she didn’t even have the Qur’an to turn to.” She paused and shook her head. “Honestly, Ismael, the only way you can fight this is to do what you already did, show her how much you love her until she can’t possibly live without you.”
He laughed. “But she already left.”
Alika shook her head. “I met her, Ismael. Sarah’s a strong woman.” She paused. “But more importantly, she’s intelligent and pious. Those two put together make it almost impossible for her to leave someone like you. She’s seen for twenty-six years what I saw in you when we first met. And I can’t imagine someone like her giving that up.”
He took a deep breath and sighed. “I can.”
There was long pause before Alika spoke. “I used to think my father was heartless for holding his ground and staying with his second wife while my mother cried and begged him to not go back to her.” She bowed her head in deep thought. “Now I know he was just wise.”
“But don’t you ever feel guilty?” Alika asked Nusaybah once everyone had gone home after class.
Nusaybah shook her head from where she sat next to Alika in the sitting room. “Never.”
“I do. After he left this morning, I was thinking maybe I should be more worried about Sarah.”
“You didn’t marry Sarah. You married him.”
“I know, but—”
“Is Sarah worried about you?”
Alika laughed. “It doesn’t look like it.”
“Then take a lesson from her.”
Alika creased her forehead as she looked at Nusaybah.
“Sarah’s worried about the same thing you were worried about this morning, her relationship with Ismael, and she’s right for that.”
“But—”
“It makes no difference if you’re his first or second wife, Alika. You have no reason to feel guilty, and you have no obligation to make amends between them. You need to worry about you and Ismael. You never get a second first year.”
Alika laughed. “You make it sound like we’ll make it to October.”
“You will if you hold your ground, inshaAllaah.”
“I never imagined that I’d face this as a Muslim.”
Nusaybah smiled. “Muslims are people, Alika, no different from anyone else.”
Alika grinned and shook her head. “After your class, I feel like there’s nothing like Islam on the earth.”
“I didn’t say Islam is no different. I said Muslims.”
She was silent as she reflected on what Nusaybah had said. “But after everything I’ve learned, I feel like Muslims are a lot different from others.”
“Knowledgeable Muslims are, Alika. And no one else. And those are few.”
“But I haven’t even been Muslim a year, and I feel a lot different from others.”
Nusaybah paused to gather her thoughts. “What I’m saying is, at the bare minimum, Alika, you have only one difference between the Muslim and others, their belief in Allah alone. This belief is shown through praying the five prayers. Now, in the Hereafter, this difference is a great one, the difference between eternal torment and ultimate entry into Paradise. The Prophet, sallallaahu’alayhi wasallam, said that the one who leaves prayer falls into kufr. In other words, without prayer, there is no Islam.”
Alika listened, her forehead creased.
“But in this life, if a person is only Muslim through Tawheed and prayer, you will see little difference between them and others. This is the case of people without knowledge, and most of us are ignorant, na’oodhu billaah. And ignorance can be thought of as two types, ignorance through having not learned or understood specific concepts in the religion, or ignorance through weakness in eemaan. If a person hasn’t learned or understood, it only needs to be taught or explained, which is, in general, easy. If a person’s ignorance is due to weak faith, it’s manifested through many things. Pride, insincerity, sinfulness, the desire for praise, or what have you. This is another matter. The problem is, the second type of ignorance is a hindrance in seeking knowledge or even understanding Islam correctly. And even if a person seeks knowledge and understands Islam, she’s not protected from the second type of ignorance. In fact, combating it is a lifetime struggle, even for a scholar or student of knowledge. One of the most difficult types of ignorance to combat is insincerity. Attaining ikhlaas is Islam itself, hence Sooratul-Ikhlaas in the Qur’an.”
“So most Muslims are ignorant through weakness?”
“My point is, we are all struggling, Alika. After prophets and messengers, the sincere scholar is on the highest level of Islam in this world. And to even attain scholarship itself, let alone sincerity in it, is a life-long endeavor and very rare.”
Nusaybah knew that what she was saying was confusing to Alika, but she was willing to take that risk. Nusaybah imagined not telling her these things would be more confusing. Too many Muslims gave up on Islam because of the actions of Muslims, even Muslims born into the faith. It was important for Alika to understand that Islam was only one thing, the establishment of a personal relationship between yourself and your Creator for the sake of your soul.
“What I’m saying is,” Nusaybah said, “you’ll need to hold on to your Islam and be patient with the Muslims, including yourself. Right now, your focus should be only Tawheed and prayer, which I hope the class is helping you with.”
“But what about my marriage?”
She smiled. “I know everything I said sounds like a riddle, but if you go home and reflect on it, Allah will make it clear. But this is your marriage, Alika, Tawheed and prayer. And if you focus on these things, it will clarify not only your own confusion but the confusion of those around you.”
Alika pursed her lips then shook her head, her gaze on her hands for a moment. “Why should Muslims, of all people, make me feel ashamed of my marriage? That’s not fair.”
Nusaybah wanted to hold Alika like she would her own daughter and tell her it would be okay. But she knew this was only the beginning of the painful contradictions Alika would see in the world around her, a world of contradictions that did not discriminate based on faith. Polygamy was only one part of the rubble in the collateral damage caused by the abandonment of the Sunnah. And no Muslim was free from blame, not even Nusaybah herself. Perhaps she did not have the disease of hating Allah’s allowance of plural marriage, but did she guard her tongue? Did she truly respect her husband? Was she truly grateful to Allah?
Inevitably, every Muslim contributed to the degenerate state of the ummah although, naturally, some were more guilty than others. Even if no outward action contradicted pure Islam, what of pride because of that? She had watched the self-destruction of her second husband due to pride, and next to pride, struggling with polygamy was a small matter, at least if it was merely a struggle and not the result of pride itself.
There was so much Nusaybah wanted to say, but she tried to find a way to summarize everything that was on her mind. “Polygamy is a difficult thing for any woman to accept,” she said, measuring her words, “but no one has a right to make you feel ashamed for being the second wife, or third, or fourth. The day you signed the contract was the day you became his wife, and that’s all that matters.”
“Then why do I feel like I just committed a sin?”
“Because you’re human, Alika, and you’re American.”
“But I’m Muslim, Nusaybah. Shouldn’t that count for something?”
“And it does, Alika. As soon as you recited the shahaadah, you were guaranteed certain rights from your Muslim sisters and brothers. I just don’t want you to get discouraged when they forget that. Make excuses for them. Ask Allah to forgive them. And believe me, Alika, it makes things better for you. If nothing else, it teaches you that your focus is on the Hereafter, not this world. And the believers are few, Alika, but the Muslims are many.”
Alika sighed, shaking her head, and Nusaybah wanted to cry for the pain she saw in her sister’s eyes.
“But I left this, Nusaybah. I left that world when I became Muslim.”
Nusaybah shook her head. “No, Alika. The world you’re speaking of is here.” She placed her right palm on the left side of her chest. “If you realize that, nothing will get you down except what goes on in there.”
“But how am I supposed to do that? I can’t live in a bubble.”
“I know how you feel, ukhtee. Believe me, I know.” Nusaybah feared it would be too much for Alika if she shared her own experiences as a co-wife. Even Nusaybah found it difficult to be patient through the loneliness she sometimes felt, this in addition to the emotional tug-of-war of polygyny itself.
If it wasn’t for her beautician license, Nusaybah doubted she’d ever see the inside of most sisters’ homes. Most never said it outright, but Nusaybah knew why she was rarely invited to events. She was the one who prepared sisters for their parties, not the one who was invited. She was rarely invited to even a wedding or walimah. One of her most hurtful memories was when Nusaybah had received a call from a sister she had known for years and who was to be married that week. The sister, after exchanging small talk, frankly asked Nusaybah not to come to her wedding, or the party that would follow. The sister apologized, of course, then said, “But you understand.”
