I couldn't remember when last I had a genuinely good meal. The food that I prepared wasn't too bad, according to Azlan...
But I missed Aunt Husna's food like crazy.
So when my aunt and uncle returned from Everson, you could not even imagine exactly how relieved I was. It had been a long three weeks without them and all I knew was that I never wanted my guardians to leave us alone ever again, even if I was technically an adult.
"Assalamu Alaikum children!" Aunty and Uncle called as they entered the house.
Rubina was the first one to greet them as she ran into their arms, squeezing them both into a tight hug. The sight bought tears to my eyes. Rubina usually didn't get along well with her parents.
I went to greet them next, followed by Hamid and Shaarif, Sakeenah and Safina and lastly, Azlan and his friend, Zak.
Zak was actually a nice guy who took a great interest in learning about Islam. Rubina had said that as being a Muslim since birth, Zak had put her to shame. It was a serious conversation but we managed to find some humor in it when Sakeenah announced that when her parents got back, she was going to ask for a little female Yorkie, just so that she could make it wear a mini hijab.
Aunty Husna threw me a surprised look when she saw Rubina dressed modestly and her eyes nearly popped right out of her skull when she saw her other two daughters dressed in an identical fashion. Uncle Ismail's expression was priceless when he saw Azlan and Zak emerge from the shadows but he softened up to them eventually.
Aunty and Uncle bought us Chinese takeouts on the way home and we devoured that within a short hour. After lunch and a lot of catching up, it was Asr time. The men left for the masjid down the road and us, ladies went to make wudu.
Aunty Husna lead us in prayer. Her recitation was filled with so much emotion that we were brought to tears by her mere words. Giving thanks to Allah for showing the Omar kids the right path was the best thing to do at the moment.
After Asr, it was back to learning about Islam. Azlan, Hamid and I taught different things through games, mostly. It took a lot of explaining to get Zak to understand many Islamic concepts, such as why we fast during Ramadan and how exactly that works. Rubina surprisingly knew more than we all expected. Apparently the internet was a better teacher than we were. As long as Rubina was learning, that was all that mattered.
》》》
The next day was a Tuesday. Aunty Husna and I were baking just for the fun of it when she spoke to me in a hushed voice.
"Aamirah, I didn't get to ask you much but you two seem really close... Who is this Azlan? How do you know him?"
I explained everything that I knew about Azlan to Aunty Husna. Since we had grown closer over the past few weeks, we shared our life stories. I couldn't believe it when Azlan told me about how he had to leave his town due to the danger that many Islamophobes had threatened him with.
Aunt Husna gasped at this news and a grim expression overtook her face. "This is not new, habibti. Our family used to live there too. Then we moved due to the violence. Your parents tried their hardest to teach others but the public refused to listen. They turned a blind eye to the truth. We're living a better life here, anyway."
And so, Azlan and I found another thing in common.
"Aamirah... Do you like Azlan?"
I blushed furiously and let out a nervous laugh. "Of course not. We're mere friends. That's all there is to it."
Aunty Husna nodded in reply but a smirk played on her lips.
Once we finished baking, we got down to preparing supper. Uncle Ismail, Zak and Azlan spent a lot of time bonding over sports, among other things so it was no big surprise when Uncle Ismail invited the pair over for dinner.
Azlan had moved out of our house the very day my aunt and uncle got back. We kept it a secret that he had been living in our very house so as not to get Rubina into trouble and put a damper on the good vibes. Azlan and Zak now lived together in a tiny apartment on the other side of town.
Aunt Husna had prepared Lamb Kabsa for dinner and I helped her. At the end of our toil, there was enough food to feed an army.
"After all those gourmet meals at Everson, I thought that I had fogotten how to cook," Aunty chuckled.
"Other food could never be as delicious as yours..." Uncle Ismail grinned at his wife
Aunty smiled shyly and I wanted to laugh at how the two were exactly like a newly wed couple, despite being married for about twenty years with children who were right on their way to adulthood.
A part of me hoped that some day, I would find a good husband and have a successful family too. A part of me wanted to be just like everybody else. What was the point of living alone and lonely, not having a family to cherish and grow with? Besides, marriage is half my deen and regardless, I wanted to be married some day.
"So Rubina, how was your house party?" Aunt Husna asked nervously. She clearly didn't want to spoil Rubina's good streak but it was her right to know.
"There was no house party," Rubina glared at Azlan but a smile soon returned to her face.
Azlan stared at his plate. He was supposed to have helped Rubina set up for the event but left her hanging instead. For that, I could not have been happier.
"It wasn't worth it. Besides, school got in the way of everything and I just didn't find the time."
"I see. And how did the rest of you kids manage? Everything ran smoothly, I hope?"
Everybody nodded. Azlan gave me a look. We hadn't told Aunty Husna and Uncle Ismail about our run-in with Daniel's evil friends at Marion Park. I didn't want my guardians to worry. They had enough on their plates already and hadn't even given themselves a chance to rest since they got back from their business trip.
"By the way," Uncle Ismail spoke up, "I heard that there was a recent death in the community..."
Silence descended upon us. Nobody dared to speak. Nobody could speak. Rubina left the table without warning, alarming her mother in process.
"What's wrong with this girl?" She muttered under her breath.
Little did Aunty and Uncle know that Mr. Ali had a special place in all of our hearts. His life story was heart-breaking and one that nobody liked to speak of. In fact, I wasn't yet ready to face any confrontations about Mr. Ali as such. I picked up my plate and left the dining room.
✴ A Z L A N ✴
Mr. Ali was an Islamic teacher at a masjid near my parents' house. That was where I knew him from. He mostly taught recent converts as he was a convert himself. One of the issues in society was that European converts weren't whole heartedly welcomed by Muslims of other ethnicities. It's a sad fact that plagued our world and so Mr. Ali wanted to change this. I was one of two Arab students that attended Mr. Ali's classes on Saturday mornings, until my parents kicked me out of their home for refusing to openly uphold my religion.
Before we moved to Seaview, I used to wear a thobe and a taqiyah. As soon as I got the chance, I decided to thoroughly change my appearance. My hair was almost always styled to perfection with gelled spikes, my clothes were nowhere nearly Islamic and I got a piercing on my left ear. I was too scared to be associated with Muslims after the horrific incidents in my hometown. I was scared of being attacked again, of being hurt and of my family being hurt. My parents didn't see it that way. They thought that they were giving me too much freedom, until I got a piercing. That one, tiny mistake changed everything.
Flashback...
"If you want to live as a delinquent then take your nonsense to the streets!"
"Imraan! Don't say that to him, he just needs some talking to!"
"No, Nooria, he has done enough. I won't tolerate infidels in my home! You have shamed your religion and your family name Azlan Jabbar! Pack your bags and get out of my house right now!"
My mother tried to pacify my father but it was no use. His decision was made and I wasn't going to succumb to attacks and death threats just because of the way I dressed.
I grabbed a bag, filled it with my belongings and left, never to return. I wasn't prepared to live in a house where they refused to accept me as I was. My motorbike was parked in the garage. All I needed was my keys. After an hour of searching in my room, I ran downstairs to find my father swinging the keys around his index finger.
"Get out. You don't deserve any of this. You abandoned your morals and values and disobey us? Now go and fend for yourself, boy!"
I felt the house and slammed the door behind me. I had about $10 on me so I took the bus to Jared's house, where I spent the night. The next day was school. There, I planned to change my living arrangements and that was the day I met Aamirah. Or as she likes to say, nearly killed her.
The Present.
"Azlan? Are you alright?" Mr. Omar looked genuinely concerned.
"Yeah..."
"By the way, you're eighteen, aren't you?"
I nodded.
"And you're still in school?"
I nodded again. My mother was secretly paying my school fees. My mother was basically the only reason for me visiting my old home. I visted Mom twice a month at the most and she phoned me whenever my father wasn't around. At least I knew that I had one family member left to count on.
"And you live with Zak? Where are your parents?"
Mr. Omar might as well have stabbed my guts out with a sharp icicle before asking me about my family.
"I moved out of their house."
"Oh... Who are your parents, by the way?"
Couldn't he mind his own business?!
I tried to maintain my cool. My temper was rising and I couldn't stop it. Before I could stop myself, the words were tumbling out of my mouth.
"Nooria and Imraan Jabbar."
The Omar parents' shocked faces gave away everything. My parents had clearly disowned me. They removed me from their lives as if I had never even been there in the first place.
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●DEFINITIONS●
-Ramadan (/ˌræməˈdɑːn/; Arabic: رمضان Ramaḍān, IPA: [ramaˈdˤaːn]; [note 1]also romanized as Ramazan, Ramadhan, or Ramathan) is the ninth month of the Islamic calendar, and is observed by Muslims worldwide as a month of fasting to commemorate the first revelation of the Quran to Muhammad according to Islamic belief.
-Thobe: A thawb or thobe (Arabic: ثَوب / ALA-LC: thawb), dishdasha (دِشداشَة / dishdāshah), kandura (كَندورَة / kandūrah), khamis (Somali: khamiis / khamīs) in Somalia or jalabiyyah in Libya, is an ankle-length Arab garment, usually with long sleeves, similar to a robe.
-Taqiyah is the Arabic word for aMuslim cap used in Saudi Arabia. In Pakistan and India, the prayer cap iscalled a topi. Topi means cap in the Hindi/Urdu language. In Pakistan, men usually wear the topi with salwar kameez.
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Omg poor Azlan :(
I feel so cruel rn.
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