If I Should Speak

by Umm Zakiyyah

  Yes, life is full of learning, they all say

  But what of that learning, what of it today?

  What is it that I should learn, what should I know?

  What is it that I have today that yesterday let go?

  Is the knowledge to be lived upon, or just spoken from my tongue?

  Does that make me wise, even if my years are young?

  So many have stories to tell, for many have walked in my shoes

  But who should I listen to, with whom will I win, with whom will I lose?

  Sometimes I lie still, and I hear the footsteps of my thoughts

  Pressing against my conscience, what great news it has brought

  Another lesson, yet another lesson, in a long line to come

  A key to success, a key to wisdom, and wise I shall become

  One day I shall learn, the thought tells me,

  One day I shall know it too, one day I’ll come to see

  So I listen, I try to listen, Lord knows I do

  But what to make of it, for the lessons are not few

  For I hear voices, oh those voices, echoing in my head

  Telling me to go this way, or that way, or another way instead

  Each voice screams wisdom, each one praising its own

  But they echo, the voices echo, and I feel all alone…

  The friends sang, now each singing alone as the other sang the chorus in a melodic whisper in the background. The voices rose and became more powerful, more captivating as the audience listened intently, awestruck by the duo. Each took her turn to solo, ad-libbing the words. The music came on more strongly as the finale was close at hand. Finally, the song came to a close as the women sang the last words, the music fading with their voices until silence filled the room. Then abruptly, the audience cheered, the applauds exploding, the noise rising in a crescendo of excitement, and someone whistled and shouted at Dee, then at Tamika, praising their performance.

  It was over, this Tamika could not believe. A smile grew on her face, and her eyes gazed into the audience. The cheering was like background noise as Dee stood next to her, as pleased as she, both certain that the producer was impressed. Tamika calmed herself, but she could not relax completely. The scene was still surreal. This could not be happening, she kept thinking as she and Dee exited the stage.

  Hands shook theirs profusely, startling Tamika, whose body jerked somewhat with the eager handshakes, and many arms embraced, congratulating them, some introducing themselves, and other showering undying praise. Tamika was so joyful at the moment that her cheeks were sore from smiling, and she kept laughing and laughing as each person greeted her, many commenting that they had no idea she was so good.

  A warm hand held Tamika’s, a grip that was unlike the others, and she looked up to find Makisha, who grinned at her and playfully told her, “You go girl.” Tamika laughed and hugged her friend, holding her for a few seconds before letting go. Then Makisha moved on, but still grinning admirably at Tamika, allowing the others to have their turn.

  The dancing continued, the Spring Formal’s disc jockey interrupting the audience’s greeting of the singers, reminding the attendees that today was not a talent show but a party. The producer walked up to them grinning, as the other students slowly went their separate ways, finding their places on the dance floor, enjoying the remainder of the formal there.

  “Let’s set up an appointment,” the producer suggested, nodding commendably, his approval detectable in his tone. He shook their hands, congratulating them warmly, and Dee glanced over her shoulder to Kevin, who winked at her, letting her know he knew. The producer then gave the students his business card and told them to call as soon as they could. When he walked away, Dee grabbed Tamika’s hand and pulled her into the hall.

  The music faded, its melodious, rhythmic sound muffled by the closed doors, and Dee grinned at Tamika, hands on her hips. Tamika laughed at her stance, not knowing what to say. Tamika calmed and smiled in return, their eyes locked with each other’s for a moment. Tamika noticed Dee’s eyes watering, which evoked tears from her own eyes. They embraced, sobbing from happiness, the gesture sealing their friendship. They both knew this was the first day of many days to come. They would be popular singers very soon. After they finished embracing, Dee jumped up and down, and Tamika did too. Both looked like little kids as they shrilled and cried in their jubilance, at a complete loss for words. Tamika had no idea how long they stood in the hall, but the time passed quickly. She enjoyed the moment, engrossed in her dreams, which were now becoming a reality. When they did return to the party room, they danced and danced, laughing and grinning at each other every few seconds, wishing the night would never end.

  Aminah curled her fingers into a fist then relaxed them, trying to ease the soreness that had come from typing too long. She was determined to get at least half-way finished before Saturday morning, because she wanted to be finished with her paper by Saturday night. She hated cramming and had never done it, at least not on purpose, having been one to plan things in advance. Whenever she was given an assignment, she would start it right away, even if it were not due until months later. But now—she sighed at the thought—now she had more than fifteen pages to type in two days, a feat she was unaccustomed to. Her papers were normally completed at least a week before they were due.

  Aminah typed some more then felt herself becoming tired again, but she wanted to push herself. She had less than two pages to go before she was halfway done. But her exhaustion got the better of her. Her mind began to wander, and her head began to nod from heaviness. After fighting sleep for a few minutes more, she gave in. She could not last any longer, and even if she could, her work would be sub-par. She should go to sleep, she decided, shutting down the computer, but only after saving her work on three floppy disks, determined not to lose her work again.

  After brushing her teeth and praying the last prayer for the day, she climbed into bed and recited Ayaat al-Kursee from the Qur’an, which she normally did before bed. Before drifting to sleep, she lay awake on her side, her eyes staring off in the dark room, which was too quiet and still. She was not accustomed to being by herself, having never lived alone. So the night was strange, eerie, and she longed for company, wishing she were in her bed at home, where her mother and brother were then.

  The alarm sounded, and Aminah awoke suddenly, her mind and eyes searching her surroundings, momentarily thinking she was at home but then remembering she was in her apartment at school. her heart sank as she was reminded of her paper.

  Groaning, Aminah dragged herself out of bed, feeling as if she had slept too little, but she would not let herself think of sleep. Murmuring the du‘aa for waking, she turned off the alarm, and, again, the house grew silent, too silent, as it had been the night before. This morning there were no sounds of breathing coming from the other beds. Durrah and Tamika were off having fun. But then again, Aminah considered, they were probably asleep now, exhausted from all of last night’s excitement at the Spring Formal, which Aminah imagined must have been a stress relief for them both. The event was the highlight of the year for most students.

  Aminah flicked on the room light, blinking at its piercing brightness and rubbing her eyes as they adjusted. She then made her way to the bathroom, dragging her feet, to prepare for prayer. She turned on the faucet and let the water run for a bit until it became warm, stalling as she enjoyed the liquid tickling the palms of her hands. She mouthed “Bismillaah” and began performing ablution for prayer, unhurriedly rinsing each hand with the water, careful to let the water spread to each part of her skin that required purification.

  After Aminah prayed, she sat on the floor for a few minutes, and her mind drifted to Durrah and how beautifully she was dressed the night before. Unexpectedly, Aminah felt tears welling in her eyes at the thought, and she blinked, fighting the tears as her heart ached for her friend. She missed Durrah, who had found a different life, a life unlike hers. For Durrah no longer woke for prayer and read the Qur�
�an. She no longer went shopping with Aminah for Islamic head coverings or outer garments. She no longer discussed Islam with Aminah, the religion little, if any part, of her life now. Durrah no longer loved what Aminah loved—and she no longer wanted Aminah as her friend.

  Aminah swallowed. Unable to contain herself any longer, she let the tears ease out of her eyes and slide down her cheeks. And for the first time since Tamika moved in, Aminah admitted to herself that she was jealous of Durrah and Tamika’s friendship.

  Sometimes Aminah felt sorry for Durrah, who was lost in the fast-paced world, mesmerized by all of its glitter and amusements. Durrah was happy, Aminah guessed, but Durrah could not be entirely, not with the double life she lived. Who could be truly happy if she wore one face at home and another at school? Who could relax completely if her actions conflicted with her beliefs? No, Durrah was not happy, Aminah decided. Rather, she was distracted, distracted by her desires, unable to feel her pain, unable to appreciate the happiness that her life had already once offered, through Islam.

  And Aminah’s friendship.

  Aminah missed Durrah, this she could not deny. But she was telling herself to let go, weaning herself from her attachment to her childhood friend. It was difficult to grow accustomed to the change, although Aminah was accepting it, albeit gradually. Sometimes she would read an inspirational passage in an Islamic book and instinctively want to share it with Durrah. But then she would remember that Durrah had changed, now “Dee.” But there was hope for Durrah, Aminah knew. Many Muslims went through similar struggles, as her mother had stated before. Aminah would just have to be patient and let Durrah come around. But Aminah wanted to help, to assist in some way, but she needed patience and wisdom, two traits she did not yet possess, at least not fully.

  At that moment, as she sat alone in the apartment sulking and reminiscing on her past friendship with Durrah, Aminah decided that she would handle things differently with her friend, the idea coming to her just then. She would be subtler in her Islamic reminders so that Durrah would again appreciate Islam—and Aminah. No, Aminah reflected, she would not compromise her religion, but she would compromise her desire to vent. She would no longer pester Durrah, she planned, because this seemed to turn her friend away. Perhaps Aminah would go shopping with Durrah some days and even listen to her songs, the ones without music, and encourage her to do Islamic songs for Muslim women. Durrah would actually like that idea probably and welcome it since it was a constructive rather than critical suggestion to include Durrah in Islamic activities. Aminah planned to initially overlook any shortcomings on Durrah’s part in a desire not to push her farther from Islam.

  Aminah felt excited at the plan, and the ideas kept coming, rushing through her mind. Yes, she could laugh with Durrah, enjoy Durrah’s company, could she not, and just be a friend? Couldn’t Aminah just accept who Durrah—Dee—had become, and work from there with the intention of being an example so that Dee would return to Islam? Shouldn’t Aminah spend more time complimenting instead of scolding her, letting Dee know she cared—still? Letting her know that she remembered their friendship and wanted to rekindle it, that she had not forgotten all the good times? Yes, she could do that, couldn’t she?

  Why not?

  Aminah even felt better at the thought. It could work, she was confident. Many people had come back to the religion by God guiding them through a patient, loving friend. And she could be that person, Aminah decided, now inspired and hopeful, two feelings she had not had since Durrah’s change.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The moist steam from the teacup warmed Aminah’s face as she lifted the cup from the table. She sat in the quiet kitchen, her mind now on her paper although she did not want it to be. The phone began ringing in the living room, but Aminah did not move, wanting to relax and enjoy the moment without interruption. She sat still until the ringing ceased, after which she raised the cup to her lips again. The sweet aroma of crushed peppermint leaves filled her nostrils, the bag in which they were enclosed darkening the hot water to a golden brown with each second that passed. Aminah’s thin fingers cradled the cup, which warmed the palms of her hands. She sipped the honey-sweetened liquid, its heat shocking her tender lips, which adjusted to the heat a moment later, as if realizing it was not too hot after all. It was late Saturday morning, a few minutes past eleven, and she was taking a break from her typing. She had been working on her term paper since she had woken at dawn.

  From where she sat, she could see the sun’s brightness illuminating the apartment’s living room, the luminosity from the lamps appearing like a dull glow against its overpowering light. She had not even realized that she had left them on. She had been typing the entire time, and her head now ached from staring at the screen so long. After allowing herself a few more sips, she set down her cup of tea and took in a deep breath and exhaled. She had a long day ahead of her, and she did not want to be deterred. She was determined to finish her paper, as she had been last night, when she decided she would answer no calls until Saturday afternoon, when she planned to return any calls that were for her. She normally answered the phone, but she told herself that she would not this time, having previously found herself talking for several hours before she even noticed the time.

  Aminah shut her eyes for a moment, letting her mind drift to home and fade into nothingness as she stole a moment of rest, not caring whether or not she deserved it, the rhythmic pounding in her head pushing her to seize the opportunity for relaxation, for peace. She was almost finished with her paper, less than five pages to go. She could not stop then. Otherwise, she may not finish in time.

  A knock at the door interrupted Aminah’s moment of stolen rest, and she abruptly opened her eyes. Mechanically, she stood, searching her mind for who it could be. Durrah? Tamika? Had their weekend ended earlier than expected? But, even so, they had keys. Or had they forgotten them?

  The person knocked again, this time more forcefully, as if certain Aminah was there. Instinctively, Aminah touched her head as she hurried to the living room, realizing that she was uncovered, eyes searching the room for something to cover her hair. Then she spotted her khimaar that she had worn for prayer, the white cloth tossed carelessly on an arm of the couch. She quickly retrieved it and threw it on her head, tossing one end over her shoulder, the head covering now hanging loosely around her head.

  “Who is it?” she called a few steps from the door as she approached, hoping the person had not gone while she was covering.

  There was a pause, as if the person was hesitating, then Aminah heard the person reply, but she was unable to make out what the person said.

  “Excuse me?” Aminah said, her ear now to the door.

  “Uh, it’s Megan,” the young lady said again.

  Megan? Aminah repeated the name in her head, searching her mind for any recollection of who she might be. Then she remembered, almost laughing to herself. Megan was one of the students who lived next door. Aminah had spoken to her on occasion, having met her at the beginning of the year, but they did not speak extensively. They had little in common, and their interaction was limited to a polite exchange of words when they passed each other in the hall or on campus. Megan most likely wanted to borrow something, Aminah figured, a pan, a blender, or some other household utensil. It was commonplace for students who lived in close proximity to swap items, even if they were strangers otherwise.

  Aminah opened the door, her head peering out. She forced a friendly smile. “Yes?”

  Megan forced a smile in return, but her expression suggested her mind was elsewhere, as she nervously rolled the newspaper that was in her hands. She tucked it under an arm a moment later. “Uh,” she said, looking past Aminah into the apartment. “Is Tamika home?” she inquired, her eyes hopeful, anxious—concerned?

  “No,” Aminah replied slowly, shaking her head, uncomfortable with Megan’s seeming insistence, as if she needed Tamika right away. “She and Durrah went to the Spring Formal, and they’ll be back tomorrow.”


  Megan’s expression changed, her eyes now on Aminah, puzzlement on her face. “You mean Tamika and Dee?” she repeated, as if translating what Aminah had said.

  Aminah nodded, “Yes.” She was still uncomfortable with students referring to Durrah as Dee, and it was even more discomforting that most students were unaware that “Durrah” was actually Dee.

  Megan’s eyes glanced away, ashamed, as if she wanted to leave but could not. But she looked up at Aminah again, taking in a deep breath then exhaling slowly, disappointment on her face. “So you don’t know?”

  “When they’ll be here?” Aminah inquired, confused. She had just given Megan that information.

  “No,” Megan told her, her eyes sympathetic. “What happened.”

  Aminah felt herself stiffen, and she blinked, staring at Megan blankly. “N-n-no,” she stuttered, searching Megan’s face for an indication of what she was referring to.

  Megan’s eyes widened somewhat and she opened her mouth slowly. A moment later, she spoke, eyes darting. “There was an accident.”

  Aminah felt her heart racing suddenly, fear almost numbing her. “An accident?” she repeated, staring at Megan, waiting for an explanation.

  “Yeah,” Megan told her with marked concern. “Tamika and Dee were in a car accident last night.”

  What? Before Aminah could muster a response, Megan went on.

  “Tamika’s okay, but,” Megan breathed, sighing regretfully with the word, “Dee didn’t make it.” The words parted from her lips swiftly, the information difficult to divulge.

  Didn’t make it? Aminah felt her legs weaken and her ears filled, sound momentarily escaping them and returning a second later. What was Megan saying? Dee? Durrah? She shook the possibility from her mind. No, it was not possible. She had just seen her friend the night before. She must not have understood Megan correctly. “Wh-what are you saying?”