I woke up to the sound of the Fajr Adhan. My dad was already up and I went over to the window to see the people get out of their houses and into the mosque. The sky was a purplish blue and the sound of the Adhan rang into the air.
We prayed Fajr and than went downstairs into the market place, looking for one of those small but delicious food shops.
Serbia.
Tamara reached Serbia, she had never been here before and had no idea where Zeke might have gone. Once she got past the officials, she decided to go straight to the house of the father of her son.
She had barely brought anything with her and hoped she could find his house before night. She unfolded the map and tried to make sense of it as she walked down the road, eyes on the map. Tamara was terrible at directions even though she had a map with her, and before long, she was lost and disappointedly folded the map and tried to stuff it in her backpack, but as she did, she bumped into some one who was taller than her by a bit, his face shadowed by the hoodie.
"Sorry!" She apologized.
"It's fine," He said, looking the opposite direction. "Do you by any chance know the directions to BB Gorjiani?"
"I was headed that way!" Tamara said, but unfortunately I got lost.
"Oh," The boy said, not hiding his disappointment at all.
"Maybe we could ask some one?" Tamara suggestes.
"They don't talk english," The boy said, lifting his head to look at her for the first time. "Mom?!" He exclaimed.
Tamara looked at the boy confused, as he pulled down his hoodie she saw his face. "Zeke! What are you doing here?!"
"Looking for a dad I never knew about." Zeke mumbled.
"I'm sorry I lied, but that's what I thought was best for the time," Tamara expressed.
"You thought that was best? You know how stressed I was thinking that Daniels was my real dad? Thinking that I had inherited his genes, thinking that I have what it takes to be him-"
"What do you mean? What do you-?"
"You mean you never knew?" Zeke asked sceptically,
"Knew what?"
"Looks like he covered it up pretty good." Zeke muttered.
"Covered what up? What is going on Zeke?" Tamara demanded.
"Daniels is a murderer."
"Excuse me?"
"He is a cold blooded murderer, he killed my friend's mother."
Tamara shook her head in disbelief.
"Yeah, well thats the truth," Zeke shrugged. "So anyway.. Are you going to help me find my real dad?"
"Yes," Tamara said finding her voice again, "We'll go see your real dad."
Lebanon
It was already evening by the time we got back to the hotel, we went out to see the market place, to the restaurants, to see my mom and dad's old university and the place where they had met and now we were exhausted. I plopped down on the bed, sighing happily, having forgotten about all our problems back home.
"What will we do tomorow?" I asked dad eagerly.
"Maybe we'll go to the beach?" Dad suggested, "And have sharbat (shaved ice with fruit juice poured over it)"
"Oh that would be great!" I exclaimed.
Dad nodded at my approval and than went to make Wadhoo for prayers.
"Dad why did you ever move out of Lebanon?" I asked.
"To see the world," Dad said simply.
"This place is perfect, there's no need to see the rest of the world." I thought aloud.
"Trust me kid, no place is perfect, the more you see of the world, the more you understand that,"
"Why did mom leave?" I asked.
"To change the world," Dad answered.
"Did she?"
"People don't like change Maydah,and when it comes, they do everything they can to resist it."
"No need to tell me twice," I muttered under my breath.
Serbia.
"This is it," Tamara said, taking in a deep breath,
Tamara and Zeke stood outside an apartment of a worn out, beaten down building. Zeke raised his hand and kncked on the peeling, green plainted door. A few seconds later the door was opened by a man in his mid forties, though still having some charm in his face, his dark hair was greying and his blue eyes peircing into them, there was definetely a lot of resemblence between father and son.
"May I help you?" He asked with a light serbian accent.
"Andeon Miljan?" Zeke asked.
"That's me, what's this about?" He said kindly.
"I'm your son."
YOU ARE READING
Journal of a Teenage Muslim.
Teen FictionMaydah Ahmad was never a normal girl. Ever since she was a young girl, it was clear to tell she was made for something bigger, something better.. But than her mother died, leaving Maydah and her father to cope on their own. After that her life was n...
