In under a month, a vibrant atmosphere once filled with laughter and joy remained but a memory. Three months ago, Layla Al-Hajj started volunteering at a local orphanage across from campus. A cozy bungalow where all orphans have a home before finding a forever family. The purring engine silenced as Layla approached the curb, contemplating whether to enter for her shift. Oh Allah, shine your light my way and guide me through this darkness. Ameen. The sound of cheerful birds migrating for the spring awakened her senses. The distant chirps became vivid as a bird landed on the rim of her window. A red robin. Admiring its beauty Layla resisted every impulsive movement to ensure the little robin wouldn't be frightened. "Sob'han Allah" (Praise to God,) She whispered. Children chasing each other around the lawn skidded to a halt as the front door banged shut. He was the new manager.
"Get inside! Single file! He shouted. As on cue the robin flew away. Petrified by the abrupt volume and intensity of his voice the children scurried in the direction he pointed. "That includes you too! Towel head!" he added glaring in Layla's direction.
"No wonder why everyone has been leaving without notice," she mumbled under her breath rolling her eyes.
As a practicing young Muslim, she chose to wear a hijab, a beautiful veil just like the beloved virgin Mary. Knowing that Allah (God,) is the only one who has the authority to judge a person on their actions, she ignored his racist remarks and continued inside. An orphanage may not represent happiness to many, but Layla cherished seeing the enlightened smiles of each child she met.
As volunteers, they strive to occupy the youngsters with fun creative activities like drawing, singing, dancing, reading, and the collective favourite going to the local playground close by. The toddlers gathered on the carpet for story-time.
"Little Red Riding Hood," they chanted.
"Okay okay, once upon a time..." she began when two little girls interrupted her.
"Uh, oh, Lala! Look!" They pointed towards the door.
The manager stood leaning on the doorframe blocking the light coming from the dining hall. Clearing his throat. "Towel-Head I need to talk to you right now." He demanded for Layla's attention.
"La Haowala wala kowata ela bl Allah."(there is no one who has more power than God.) she whispered under her breath passing the book over to one of the other volunteers, before heading towards him. "Yes?"
Towering over Layla he spoke in disgust. "What the hell is on your head? A towel?" he tugged on her headscarf.
Although she tried to remain calm his aggressive actions infuriated her. "My name is Layla, not towel head. This is called a hijab! And don't you ever touch me again."
"Whatever, That thing! On your head has no place in my orphanage. We don't support terrorists here" He shouted.
As his aggression towards Layla escalated the other volunteers try to distract the children in fear of retaliation, toward anyone else. But, A four-year-old girl ran to Layla's side hugging her as tears rolled down her cheek.
"Lala." She said her voice breaking.
The manager rolled his eyes. "Ha, Lala? Really? You got to be kidding me! What did you do to them to get so attached to a terrorist like you?" "Stay away from her" He tugged the little girl's arm. "She's a terrorist."
"No!"
The little girl wiggled out of his grip and back to Layla's side, this time crying hysterically, hiding behind her skirt.
"May God help you. She is just a child," Layla picked up the little girl in her arms. Comforting her as she walked back to the carpet. Oh, Allah give me the patience to handle his ignorance.
"I am not done talking to you!"
"Enough she exclaimed, you are scaring the children."
The manager pinned Layla against the wall.
"GET OFF OF ME!!!! YOU CREEP!!" Layla shouted in his face. Istaghfar'Allah el Azim (God forgive him for his sins.) Paralyzed in fear Layla couldn't move.
"Only if you remove this towel on your head and come back to the land of the normal like the rest of us." He tightened his grip on her wrists. "Let me see your beautiful hair!" he stepped closer towards Layla closing the space between them.
Istaghfar'Allah el Azim Istaghfar'Allah el Azim Istaghfar'Allah el Azim. she repeated in her head. He got way too close.
"GET OFF OF ME! I'd rather die before removing my hijab in public," she shouted in his face. "And I said don't touch me" she added yelling even louder. Looking for any way to get out from under him, Layla hit him where it hurts.
As the manager hit the ground in pain Layla bolted toward the main door.
As Layla set out her prayer mat for Asr (Mid-Afternoon Prayer) the events that unfolded throughout the day replayed in her mind. Oh Allah, I love working with the orphans, but this has gotten too far. What should I do?
The expectation and pressure placed on a child of a successful Arab man is more difficult than any average immigrant in North America. A stack of marketing textbooks scattered across the desk.
"I can't do this shit anymore!" In frustration, Ahmad smashed the marketing textbook against the wall. "God, I need a drink." He shouted. His head throbbing with pain, Ahmad reached over for the bottle of Advil. "For the love of God, this is fucking redundant," he said to himself as he punched the desk.
Jolted by the sounds Yousif Ramadan bolted up the stairs. "What was that Ahmad?" In shock by the mess, he started picking up the torn pages and the textbooks scattered on the ground.
"For God sake Baba, I am artistic, not a Fucking memory stick," he said punching the desk as the loose papers went flying again.
"Akh ya ebni," (It pains me, my son,) he paused. "Why can't you be like your brother Nader? He loves marketing especially when we own the largest salon and studio in town." Yousif said as he picked up the remaining pages.
"I am not Nader! He should take over the business not me. I AM A PHOTOGRAPHER BABA!" he said in rage.
"That's why you are the photographer at the studio Ahmad, but it is not a reliable job." He said walking over to the desk placing the papers down.
"I AM LEAVING!" he grabbed a Nikon camera from the nightstand alongside the keys to his red Lamborghini before storming out the door.
"Allah yahadeek ya ebni" (May God guide you my son) Yousif said quietly.
The beauty of spring started along the winding road, flowers blooming before being replaced by the greenest of leaves. Ahmad found himself at peace with his camera. Across the path stood a playground crowded with kids running around. Browsing the scene for his next photo, Ahmad spotted a group of kids, surrounding a lady wearing a long flowy dress, and what looked to be a hijab. Her eyes glossed over with tears. Layla stood in the center of a human chained circle made by all the toddlers and co-workers from the orphanage. Ahmad simultaneously adjusted the focus and zoom on his camera for a perfect shot. Come on Come on!
Holding back her tears, Layla swiftly pivoted her body towards the wind.
He hit the shutter.
Click!
Please vote if you enjoyed the first chapter. What do you think of the changes? I would love to know your opinions in the comments. Some things to think about: How did the picture turn out? Will Ahmad approach Layla for the first time? Will Layla Return to the Orphanage?
Thank you for reading -Razan