First Time Glance

Gobsmacked. That’s the best way to word it. For the first time I felt the lure, the thrill of zināül-‘ayn, fornication of the eye. My heart was going so fast it was ready to take flight from my chest, and my skin was so sweaty and hot I must’ve been fluorescent. But I didn’t dare check, just in case I stupidly let such beauty escape my sight and…

“Muneer! Muneer! Are you listening?” called out Ya’qoob with several snaps of his fingers.

Holding out my palm to somewhere in his general direction, I replied, “Somewhat.”

“Somewhat? The hell is somewhat? What you looking at bruv?”

“Hold on, hold on,” gasped Muammar. I assumed he was following my gaze since he leaned in to my face, so close our beard hairs poked each other’s cheeks.

“Muammar, that stings,” I stated.

He backed off slightly. “Can it be? Muneer is… yeah he is! Muneer is eyeing up gyal!”

Ya’qoob, Shams and Haytham crowded round to see for themselves.

“Where?” Ya’qoob demanded to know. “There ain’t no buff chick, just that tall fat bald African chick on the phone. Even a good boy like Muneer’s not desperate enough to want that!”

Even as I carried on gawking at her, I remembered to tell Ya’qoob something very important: “Bro, you’re ignorant. Shut your mouth.”

“I can’t even see,” Shams squeaked before tut-tutting to himself. “Oh yeah, glasses. That would help. That’s… oh wow. That’s… an interesting choice, if a little challenging.”

“Yeah,” Muammar agreed. “She’s not even Muslim.”

And as soon as those words hit my ears the guilt jabbed at me. My gaze began to quiver as my emotions declared war on each other. ‘She’s beautiful! But it’s a sin to look. Beautiful! Sin to look. Beautiful! Sin to look.’

“If she’s Christian or Jewish it’s all good,” said holy Haytham. “If she reverts to Islam even better. Either way you should be lowering your gaze.”

“Oh my daze! You are talking about that African chick ain’t ya?” Ya’qoob finally noticed. “You lot are disgusting!”

Leaning in toward me again, Muammar whispered, “Don’t listen to these dodos. She’s nice, and you want her. This could be your day inshāällah. Go chat to her.”

“What?” I snapped. That broke my stare, which Ya’qoob was grateful for. “I’m no good at that!”

“You don’t get good by staying here with us. Take a chance.”

“What do I say?”

“You’ll work it out when you get there. Go.”

Ya’qoob shoved his way in between us. “I can’t hear no more of this trash. Muneer, you don’t want her do you? Do you?”

“Why shouldn’t he want her? What’s wrong with her?” Muammar spat as he shoved Ya’qoob away.

“Er, she’s bald!”

“No, look properly. Her hair’s really short and blends into her skin.”

“Whatever. She fat too.”

“Er, no! She’s thick, with a definite feminine figure!”

“And she’s like 6ft!”

“Only 2 inches above our man - and she’s got heels!”

 “She’s blick, like that chick in 12 Years a Slave!”

“And that’s bad is it? Ignorant piece of…”