Mariam is a devoted Muslim. She goes about her high school life in the remembrance of Allah (S.W.T) and never misses a prayer. She is considered a "good girl," being nice to everyone and treating them equally. But then there's Damian, the one guy th...
Salamu Alaykum!!! So since my last update, I have noticed that many more readers have joined the wagon of CTBB and it's just so amazing to have all you guys reading this like wow I feel like a celebrity now haha. There's over 40 readers now, and I don't want to be greedy or anything but I should be getting forty votes per chapter, right? Haha just kidding lol
Anyway, this is a VERY long chapter to make up for the VERY long wait you guys had to endure for this update, and I promise you, the wait was worth it ;)
^The video up there inspired me for a lot of this Chapter, the man might be a bit overbearing sometimes but what he says is definitely the truth and very well said too.
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When we entered the mosque that night before Maghrib, the first thing that hit me was the smells.
"Do you smell that?" I sniffed, nudging Zeinab, who began sniffing too, twitching her nose like a rabbit.
"Yeah, I do," she groaned. "How am I going to concentrate in prayer when there's delicious food wafting about?"
"Well, the Prophet alayhi-salam did say we could eat before we pray," I pointed out as we crossed the carpet to the women's section of the mosque. There was a side room which was usually closed off with the partition wall, however it had been opened back to reveal a table laden with food yet to be unwrapped. Women came in carrying platters of assorted foods from different cultures, placing it on the table as the sun set outside the mosque.
"So can we eat?" Zeinab asked hopefully, eyeing the food like a lion eyes an antelope.
"Only if you are so starving that it will affect your prayer, and you and I both know you had a packet of chips before we left the house," I said, and Zeinab pouted.
I noticed Fatima amongst the women, helping her mum bring in food, so I went over to join her. I had completely forgotten all about tonight's mosque gathering until I came home to find Mama making a large serving of Fattoush. Mama never made Fattoush unless it was for guests or a special occasion, since it took a good half an hour to prepare, so when she told me it was for the Good Friday charity dinner at the mosque, everything clicked. I had invited Damian on the one night that the mosque was open to anyone in the public who needed a meal, and it was also the night that our community came to celebrate our diversity, but most importantly, our religions. Technically tomorrow was Good Friday, and each year on the night before the Mosque held an open night, not to commemorate Jesus' supposed crucifixion as the Christians and Catholics celebrated at Easter, but to give back to the people altruistically and generously, as all this free food was a form of Zakat. It was the only time other than Ramadan and Eid that our mosque served free food for the public, while simultaneously giving da'wa. Honestly, if I were a non-Muslim and I tasted this food served by the Muslims, I would've converted straight away.
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