Muslims in Another Word

Assalamualaikum...

*Ehem*

=A Hijab Discussion=

'So let me get this right,' Eileen says. 'You don't have to wear it in front of family, kids and females?'

'Basically that's it.'

'So it's not like you wear it all the time,' Simone says.

'That's right. Of course....I wear it in the shower.'

Eileen and Simone roll their eyes at me. 'Like we're that naive, Amal.'

'Seriously, I do. Helps with the conditioning treatment.'

'Please do us a favour and audition for the Melbourne Comedy Festival.'

-chapter 4, page 41-

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=Innocent Questions About Hijab=

'Did your parents force you?' Kristy asks, all wide-eyed and apalled.

'My dad told me if I don't wear it he'll marry me off to a sixty-five year old camel owner in Egypt.'

'No!' She's actually horified.

'I was invited to the wedding,' Eileen adds.

'Really?' This is definitely a case of dropped from the cradle.

'Hey! Amal!' Tim Manne calls out. 'What's the deal with that thing on your head?'

'I've gone bald.'

'Get out!'

'I'm on the Advance Hair Program.'

For a second his eyes flicker with shock. Then Josh punches him on the shoulder. 'Rocked!'

'Like I believe her,' Tim says, looking sheepish.

'Does it get hot?' someone asks.

'Can I touch it?'

'Can you swim?'

'Do you wear it in the shower?'

'So is it like nuns? Are you married to Jesus now?'

It's unreal. Everybody's asking me about my desicion and seems genuinely interested in hearing what I have to say.

-chapter 7, page 65-66-

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=The Consequence of Wearing Hijab=

He looks confused. 'Nah. What are on about?'

I cough and try to explain. 'My...hijab.'

He scratches his head. 'Nope. Sorry. You've lost me. Is it, a sin to debate or something?'

I burst out laughing. 'No! Of course not!'

'What then?'

'Well, I'm kind of...nervous'

'You?'..........yada yada yada...............

'You know what those debaters are like. I don't know if I'm ready to get up in front of an audience made up of other rich private schools. They'll just stare at me and not listen to a word I say as they try to get over their shock that I know English.'

'So?'

'What do you mean, so?'

'Why do you care?'

'Because I do.'

'Okay, then prove them wrong. If anybody can, it's you.'

'Is that what you think?'

'No. It's what I know.'

-chapter 9, page 90-91-

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=The Ablution Crisis=

In school the next day, at lauchtime I go to the girls' toilets to do my wuduh before prayer. As I'm washing my feet Tia walks in with Rita Mason. I ignore them.

'What are you doing?' Tia asks in a mocking tone.

'What does it look like?'

'I don't know. You're not walking in the desert, you know. We do have shoes in this country.'

I ignore her. 'I'm washing for my prayer.'

'Oh! Looks a bit complicated. You actually wash your feet, just so you can, ah, what was it, pray?'

I stand up to my full height, one sock off, one sock on. Very dignified.

'That's right. See, Tia, I wash my feet five times a day. So that means that at any given time of the day, my feet are cleaner than your face.'

'Touchy!' she snarls, storming off with Rita.

I hobble off to put my other sock on, a grin plastered all over my face.

-chapter 11, page 110-

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=The Praying and Believes Discussion=

'Where are you going?' he asks.

'To pray.'

'Cool. Where?'

I eye him suspiciously. 'Mr Pearse organised a room for me.'

'Wow! So you actually pray every day, here at school? It's not sarcastic, Amal. You can drop the eyebrows a notch.'

I give him a half-smile. 'Yeah. I pray every day here.'

'Is it hard? To keep up, I mean?'

'Sometimes it is. I get lazy too, you know. But it's kind...kind of like a time-out. You know when - actually don't worry.'

'What?'

'Nothing'

'I hate that what/nothing game. Just say it. I won't laugh. Jesus Christ, you take things seriously!'

'You shouldn't take Christ's name in vain like that,' I say solemnly.

'What? Now you're defending Jesus?'

'I wouldn't be considered a Muslim if I didn't believe in Jesus Christ.'

He backs away a little, looking flustered but excited. 'Are you serious? So you believe in the Trinity and stuff like me? Come on, sit down for a sec. I want to talk about this. This is weird. Can you pray in ten?'

'Yeah...I guess so.'

We walk over......

'So you and I, we believe in the same thing after all?'

'Well...not exactly. See, we don't believe Jesus was God, or the son of God. We believe he was one of the mightiest prophets of God, and performed miracles with God's permission, like healing the blind, curing the lepers.'

'Really? So Muslims actually believe in that too?'

'Yeah. I went to a Catholic school you know. In primary.'

'You didn't? No way!' His eyes widened and his mouth is confused between grinning and laughing out loud.

'Yep.'

'This is freaking me out, Amal. So what were you saying about prayer?'

I lean back against the bench and stare at him. 'Okay. Imagine you're playing one of your basketball matches.'

'Done.'

'You're running up and down the court, doing your lay-ups, shooting hoops, smashing your body into exhaustion. You've got nothing on your mind except the game. Nothing is distracting you from it. But when it's time-out, you get this three minutes of calm. You get to drink your slurpie, catch your breath, rethink your strategy, who's getting your way, who's working with you, who you could work with more. How much you owe your coach. What was that tip he gave you? What did he say was the best way to get a goal? Right?'

'Yep.'

'That's how prayer is for me. It sounds corny, I know. But it's kind of...like that. Except there are five slurpie breaks a day, and one of them is so early it makes your teeth sting.'

-chapter 15, page 135-137-

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Quoted from: "Does My Head Look Big In This?; written by Randa Abdel-Fattah"

*I L.O.V.E this book!!!! VERY BOLD!!!!*