Growing Up
My dad was very protective of us children. I never saw a man who was as loving towards his family, or yet as religious in his devotions. He inspired us with his example of deep hunger for knowledge, never boasting of his credentials even though he was widely read. Naturally, I had warmed my way to his heart and 'overthrew' my siblings in the competition for his affection and attention - mostly because I was the most troublesome, rascally, argumentative and often screamed with loud sobs until I got my way. Ironically, I was often bullied in school and would run home to cry my eyes out, instigating my elder brothers to go slap some heads around. often, they would pretend to make a lot of noise but left me to fend for myself.
Our relations with neighbours were cordial. Since our parents respected people, we were brought up never to speak derogatorily about anyone. Trust us, while I and my siblings said 'amin' to that injunction, we would run around and abuse everyone in the neighbourhood. Our parents knew how to handle us - very gently reminding us of being thrown to hell with unbelievers - the kafir/infidel. For me, it was worse than that - because as a young female, it was only from my dad I heard that women far out numbered males in hell. All the same, we had the fortune of being loved by our parents.
We lost almost everything when the then Lagos State government relocated people from Maroko because the place was to be developed for new residents and businesses. I was away on holiday in the north (Kano) and arrived Lagos as a lost child. The cohesion we enjoyed in the Muslim community in Eti Osa easily helped me reconnect with my family, and we found a place to settle in Ipaja.
I was looking forward to returning to school when the fortune came for us to travel abroad. Briefly, I've travelled extensively around Europe, visited home several times and then finally . . em. . fell in love. The problem was that he was a Christian, and for a Muslim lady to date a Christian man was just simply a violation of our belief in Islam. But that incident opened my eyes to the realities of my faith - where do I go from here?
To be continued. . . |
continued. . . How come my dad is speaking of Jesus this way? There was something warm and genial in his voice as he spoke; but I thought he was trying his best to help me heal after Kylie's demise.
I made so many friends and didn't really care where they came from - Muslims, Christians, Mormons, atheists, adherents of the Grail Message (learnt from several of them that they don't like people referring to them as Grail Messengers). After my elder brother graduated, he quickly got a job as an analyst in a computing firm. The money was big, and he soon settled. But his success also meant that I could get whatever I wanted - still in school, the 'baby' of the family, dady's girl, etc. But, of course, I faced temptations such as was common to everyone. The difference was that by religious convictions, we were encouraged to pursue modesty, but quite in a legalistic manner.
It Begins to Heat Up!
One good thing about the democracy of the West is that people are free to be themselves. Democracy was not a gift of Islam to anybody; but in such an engalitarian culture, I was free to attend masjid (mosque) in the section for women and pray, perform my rites. . . and on very few occasions try to listen to preachers give lectures. At this point, unfortunately, the real issues of my belief system had begun to be seriously questioned.
What was I taught while growing up? So many things about life in genral. In specific terms, we believed that our ummah (the entire Muslim community in contrast to other religious groups) were the "best among mankind". Others were going to hell for rejecting Allah and Muhammad; and it doesn't matter what we as Muslims did, we shall enter jannah (paradise). I liked the sound of all this, until the real question of my place in Islam made me think deeply; especially because as a woman, our sect in Islam believed the doctrine that those who were more in number in hell were women. I never liked discssuing that point; so I acoided it as much as possible.
However, there were other sects in Islam that were more condescending than our sect. They didn't believe in demonizing women, nor were they inclined to the grey areas of human reality. I had friends in such sects; generally, whether or not we said it openly or privately, we all belonged to the group which saw Jews and Christians with seething disaffection.
As I grew up and wasn't running after oyinbo boys anymore (they came chasing me now), those I met were often interested in their faith. I learnt so many things from a lot of them, but up until now I don't know what was attracting me to Christians even though I knew deep in my heart I so hated them. My excuses were that they were responsible for all the evil of the West, all the degradable things in humanity was brought about by their corruption. . . and one day, they would all be vanquished: it was a matter of time! Please note: there are genuine Muslims who are not belligerent, and up until now I have so many friends among them. But while our parents were serious in their devotions and moderate with extreme issues, I had the sad misfortune of being steeped into some extremist elemtal thinking. I'm sorry, but that is the truth (although, thankfully, our sect never encoraged women to participate directly in Jihad).
Wake Up and Smell the Coffee!!
Fast forward. After several debates with a few people, I had quickly been recognized as a local champion, most feared more because of my very saucy language in debates than for my intelligence. I was praised by my friends, and was so deluded for a moment enjoying the ridicule I put Christians to. The Jews I encountered, surprisingly were very intelligent and did not believe in shouting. They, like the Christians, showed a bit more respect and love. So, how was I able to shut the mouths of Christians? Well, I simply spent hours on end at skeptic and atheistic websites to harvest loads of very demeaning quotes and arguments against them!
During this time, my dad was no longer attending masjid (although I don't know when exactly he converted and became a Christian). As children, we didn't bother to ask him about it, because there were many muslims around us as well who were not too keen about attending masjid (mosque). What people don't realise was that even in Atlanta, there were evidently extreme elements who made it their duty to "eliminate" defecters and "apostates". I knew all this - I knew that it only would take just a report and the 'apostate' is quitely 'removed' from daylight.
So, I kept on with this attitude, castigating Christians and Jewish beliefs with more vehemence. You see, what was even giving me this cowardly boldness (oxymoron) was that we could say anything against others; but they could not do the same to Islam! Although no one cried about a blasphemy Law in Atlanta, we believed that we were well protected in the USA culture to slur Christianity and threaten them if they dared do the same to our belief!
Yet again, I had a softspot for another Christian. His father was an atheist, but they yet lived happily and peacefully among themselves. I look back with tears in my eyes and regret for the many evil things I did personally to him, his family and his belief as a Christian. His father liked me so much he would invite me to upset this gentleman. But hey, he never for one day stop praying for me. I challenged him with a rhetoric: "Since you started praying for me, has you Jesus answered you? Don't you see that you're so **$(%** to be a Christian? Christianity does not work - as prophet Muhammad said!"
His answer? It shocked me - and it happened in just that manner. This is what he said:
"I know Jesus has answered me. He only asked me to be patient
and to keep praying for you. He said the sign you will see is that
your dad will call Me "Lord" with his lips. You will hear him say this,
and you cannot stop him!"
I was scared, but laughed him to scorn. His atheist father liked my scorning; and I left home more dazed than when I began. There was something so unmistakable in his voice that I just couldn't woosh it away.
Then one day, I heard he was terribly ill. What surprised me was that he had requested to see me. What's he up to?
To be continued. . . |
