CHAPTER 12 (continued)

Posted: June 6, 2014 in Uncategorized


Fridays are the most hectic day. It’s the holiest of all the days of the week. I usually stay awake after praying my fajr salaah, reading quraan and Islamic books. Fajr is the early morning prayer that is offered before the sun raises. Yusuf goes to the masjid while I stay and offer my prayers at home. This morning Yusuf was up just before me. From the day Jameela was born Yusuf began to read his fajr prayer regularly. He would drive down to the mosque every morning and be back to catch up on some more sleep before he needed to wake up for work. Thankfully the new house has a beautiful masjid on the street behind us. The call to prayer can be heard clearly five times a day and waking up to the sound of the almighty’s call has been one of the highlights of the new house.

This morning is no different. I wake up just as Yusuf is getting his shoes on.

“I’m going” he says just above a whisper. The room is dark except for the free standing lamp at the drawn curtain casting a low glow into the room.

I nod a reply as I sit up in bed and rub the sleep from my eyes. I look at my alarm clock and it flashes 4am. I go to the bathroom for whudu and get ready for salaah. It is a short prayer but the power of the prayer lies in the stillness of the night. With most of the world still fast asleep, it is easy to believe that this is the time where prayers are answered. After my salaah, I remain sitting on my musallah and make dua. I have many things to be thankful for and I try to remember all of them. I sit with my hands open, palms facing upwards in front of me, as if waiting to receive something from the heavens. This position has always fascinated me, yet I cannot think of any better way to send requests up to the heavens and receive blessings back down. I was always told that dua was an important part of faith. It is talking directly to your creator, thanking Him for everything and asking for whatever you need. This morning I am asking for strength.

My husband has always been strong for me. He knows what to say and when to say it. He knows what to do and when to do it. I feel lost now that I suspect that things may change. If he has once again been trapped in his stupid addiction, I need the strength to be able to do the right thing-whatever that maybe. At the moment I am a ball of contradictions. I think about the night he went away and what I found. Then I watch him play with the children and read quraan and I so want to believe that I am wrong. I am hoping that I am wrong about him, I am praying that I am.

Still sitting on my musallah, my thoughts turn to my mother. She saw the good in him right from the beginning. How I wish she was here to help me sort through this mess. Yusuf was always in awe of my mother – A strong woman supporting her family and raising her children without a husband. He told me often how he admired her. He would often ask her advice about decisions and even shared his feelings about me with my mother before he told me. She was always so easy to talk to. She would listen to my silly rambles and help me talk myself through all sorts of decisions. She was a woman of the world and her life experience taught her well, she knew enough to allow her children to make our own decisions even if she didn’t approve. My sketching was a case in point, she continuously encouraged me although she respected my decision to stop.

She would know exactly what to do now. I try to think of what she would tell me. I close my eyes and immediately her voice is in my head. “Don’t be stupid Hasina” she would say. “Yusuf would never put you and his children in such a position”. “He is a good husband and good father”. I think about what she told me when I found out about his relapse early in the marriage. “He didn’t have to tell you Hasina” She said, “He made a mistake and he is sorry”. When she forgave him after speaking to him, it was the stamp of approval I needed. Is it selfish to miss her now more because I need her? I need her to tell me what to do. I need her to tell me everything is going to be ok….And what if everything ISN’t OK? What will I do? How will I manage without my mother’s strength?

I was deep in prayer, pleading for strength and for guidance. “Dua can change your fate” my mother would say. That is what I was riding on and striving for. Dua can change my fate. I sat, face in hands, for a long time pondering this and pleading. When I eventually looked up the room was glowing from the sun beaming its raise from below the curtains. Turning towards the bed, I saw Yusuf fast asleep. I hadn’t even heard him come back. My bedside alarm clock read 6:30am.





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