The Garden of My Imaan

by Farhana Zia

  It was Badi Amma’s story. I had heard the story of the garden of my imaan a million times. Amma had added the part about the blisters but the rest of the story was the same. I closed my eyes, snuggled closer, and willed myself to think about the mango seed. I went deeper this time. Then I pushed away from my grandmother’s soft bosom and met her hard gaze.

  “Yes, Amma,” I said slowly. “I think I can be brave.”

  “Shabaash! Well done!” My grandmother drew me back to her. “You can stop worrying now. You’re looking at the world’s best fixer-upper, young lady, or did you forget? My job is easy. Yours is so much harder in comparison and I am oh so proud that you are ready to tackle it!”

  With each step forward, I wished I could take ten in the opposite direction, but I kept going. “Be brave,” my inner voice urged. “Be brave.”

  I heard OCD muttering to Bibi Sayeda, promising those fourteen salaams if only she could find her beads. I watched as she looked behind the drapes and peeked in the fireplace. She opened and closed cupboards and pantry doors; she pulled cans of soup and vegetables from the shelves. She even peeked into the garbage pail, with a thumb and finger pinching her nostrils. She was clearly desperate.

  “Choti Dahdi,” I called out softly. I don’t think she heard because she continued her frantic search. “Choti Dahdi,” I tried again, a little bit louder this time. “I have something to tell you …”

  I told her everything and it wasn’t so bad after all. Choti Dahdi lectured me about the evils of stealing and I didn’t argue. She said it made Allah unhappy and I nodded in shame. But she also added that Allah is always pleased with people who ask for His forgiveness. I promised I’d ask. “Cross my heart,” I added.

  “Aii!” snorted Choti Dahdi. “What is this ‘Cross my heart’?”

  Important Victories

  Madison came running up to us in the hall. “Hey, Aliya,” she panted. “Juliana’s saying horrible things about you!”

  “What’s the witch saying now?” Winnie asked before I could react.

  “She’s going around telling people you’re toast!”

  “I’m what? What exactly does she mean by that?” I cried.

  “Toast. That means you’re finished! It’s over for you.”

  “I know what it means!” I said. “Why is she saying it?”

  “Dirty politics,” Winnie speculated. “That’s what this is. She’s shifting her strategy from buying votes to negative campaigning.”

  “What should I do?” I asked.

  “We should start our own smear campaign,” Winnie said. “We can spread the word that a vote for Juliana will contribute to the ruination of the school.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t think my Mom or Amma will allow that. They’d want me to be truthful and honest.”

  Juliana, Nicole, and Morgan stood behind me in the lunch line.

  “Maar … vaa. What kind of name is that anyway?” Juliana giggled. “Maar … vaa!”

  “And get a load of the scarf she has on today,” Nicole said.

  Juliana snorted. “Does she think she’s making some sort of a fashion statement?”

  “And how about that gross stuff she’s always eating?” Morgan added.

  My ears were hot and my heart was pounding. Without thinking, I whirled around. “You’re worse than Austin! Her name is Marwa!”

  “What?”

  “Marwa doesn’t wear her hijab for fashion. She does it because she thinks it’s the right thing for a Muslim girl to do.”

  I think that startled Juliana. “Whatever,” she muttered.

  “And it’s mean to talk behind someone’s back,” I added.

  Juliana, Nicole, and Morgan stared at me. Winnie’s jaw had dropped; she looked back and forth between me and Juliana.

  “How would you know?” Juliana asked. “Are you a Mos … lem, or whatever it’s called?”

  “Mus-lim.” I emphasized the proper U vowel sound in the first syllable. “You know very well I am.”

  “So why don’t you wear a funny scarf too?”

  I started to explain about personal decisions and interpretations—things that Mom was always telling me about—but I changed my mind. Instead, I just said, “It’s hurtful and cowardly to talk behind someone’s back. If you have something to say, bad or good, you should be brave enough to say it to her face.”

  Juliana, Morgan, and Nicole just stood there silently. That made me feel good.

  “Marwa’s really nice,” I said. “You should try to get to know her.”

  “Who says we are remotely interested in knowing her?” Juliana had found her bearing again.

  “If you aren’t,” I said, “you’re really missing out. She can be a very good friend.” I started to leave. Then I turned back. “And by the way, that gross stuff? It’s just feta cheese. The Greeks eat it too.”

  “Can you believe it?” Juliana sneered. “The cat just let go of someone’s tongue!”

  “Way to go, Aliya!” Winnie thumped my back so hard that she almost knocked me over. “I can’t believe you did that!”

  I had just stood up to Juliana! And I had done it without help! Still, my heart was thumping in my chest and my mouth was dry. I knew that they were probably rolling their eyes and smirking. But maybe their laughter was now tinged with embarrassment.

  After lunch, we found Madison and Leah outside huddled against the wall, stomping their legs and trying to keep warm.

  “What was going on in the line back there?” Madison asked. “It looked like you were really telling Juliana off!”

  “She was being a big jerk,” I said.

  “You should have seen Aliya,” Winnie told them. “I’ve never seen her like that. I was so proud of her!”

  “Thanks, Winnie,” I said.

  We hopped on one foot and the other and did jumping jacks just to keep the blood circulating. I didn’t notice Austin had walked up until I heard him behind me.

  “Watch out! The Alien’s leaping!” he yelled. “And if you aren’t careful, the Alien will bulldoze you over!”

  “What’s wrong with him?” Madison asked.

  “What’s wrong with him is there’s nothing right about him,” I said.

  “Get lost, creep!” Leah shouted.

  Suddenly I thought of someone else I wanted to see before we had to go back inside.

  “Hey, where are you going?” Winnie called out. “Austin’s not going to bother you now; he’s going away!”

  I walked over to the picnic bench. But no one was there.

  Thursday, December 12

  7:30 p.m.

  Dear Allah,

  I told Juliana off today. Yesss!

  But I couldn’t find Marwa.

  Yours truly,

  A

  PS I have so much to tell her!

  Two Toads

  The Glen Meadow Student Council school elections were two days away and excitement was building by the hour. Voting for the executive council was in the gymnasium but class representatives—one from each homeroom—were being elected in their own homerooms.

  The campaign was at a fever pitch. Marwa was the only one who still seemed cool and collected. The rest of us zipped around her in high gear, like wind-up toys just let loose.

  My father told me that a campaign speech was terribly important, especially if one wanted to sway the undecided block. “You sound a bit tentative,” he said, reviewing what I had written. “You need to sound sure about yourself. Your words should exude confidence. You need to convey that you are up to the job. Don’t be afraid to embellish your strengths.” Sentence by sentence, he underlined phrases, struck through words, scribbled a few notes, and drew smiley faces beside the parts he liked.

  I put my old speech on the table and next to it, a brand new piece of paper. First, I jotted down all my strengths:

  Kindhearted

  Responsible

  Conscientious

  Hardworking

  Trustworthy

&nbs
p; Good friend

  Persistent—in other words, does not give up

  And then I started over on my speech.

  When I was finally done, I practiced several times in front of Mom and Amma and Badi Amma. OCD was helpful in her own crazy sort of way. First she instructed me to stand tall. When my posture didn’t satisfy her, she tried to show me how, even though she still looked crooked to me. Then she told me to speak more clearly and not eat up my words.

  “How do you know I am mumbling?” I asked. “You don’t even speak English that well.”

  “Aii!” she screeched. “We know English. Hello, bye, come, go, God Bless Umrica … You see?”

  “She is absolutely right,” Mom said. “Please enunciate better and pull yourself out of your slouch, will you?”

  Our music teacher had given us some lines to say to practice our enunciation in class. I repeated them at home until my throat was dry and my voice hoarse: Two toads terribly tired trotting down the road. Two toads terribly tired trotting down the road … Two toads terribly tired … Two toads …

  Winnie gave me last-minute instructions in homeroom. “Take deep breaths,” she said. “Close your eyes and count backwards from ten … slowly.”

  My hands were clammy and my throat felt dry. I decided to go over the speech in my head one last time. When I couldn’t remember my opening line, I panicked! Frantically I dug in my pocket for the scrap of paper and reviewed everything word by word.

  Hello, friends. I am Aliya and I want to represent you in the school council. I am the right person for the job. Let me tell you why. I am a hard worker and a pretty good student. I am a good friend and you can depend on me and trust me because I am very responsible and I will never let you down. I will do a better job than my worthy opponent because I am conscientious and caring. I will listen carefully and I will sit down with you. We can talk about your problems or you can write down your concerns and put them in a suggestion box and I promise to read everything. Believe me, no problem will be too small or unimportant.

  We have a great school but we can improve it. Here are some ideas to make us a more caring school: We should do more to help the poor and the victims of hurricanes. I think we waste a lot of food, don’t you? We should stop doing that. We should give leftovers to the poor people. We should be more conservation minded and we should stop wasting so much paper.

  I have fun ideas too. We could have a flea market for kids someday or maybe even help kids set up a business or have a talent show, because everyone is special in some way. I have many more ideas and I promise I will listen to yours. Please vote for me. Thank you.

  When it was time for the speeches, Juliana sprang out of her seat and strode up like a warrior to the front of the room. She swept her hands over her perfect hair and smoothed down the sides of her perfect new sweater. “Hello, everyone,” she said cheerily. “You all know who I am so I don’t have to introduce myself. But I will tell you that I want to be your class rep and I want your vote.”

  She went on to tell us why she was the better choice and gave reasons why a vote for her was a vote for success and reform. But I wasn’t listening anymore; I was too busy chewing on my nails and going over my speech in my head.

  When Juliana was done, everyone clapped loudly and she bowed with a dramatic flourish. The applause felt endless. I looked at Winnie nervously and she gave me a hearty thumbs-up. Mrs. Holmes turned to me. I looked over at Winnie again and she smiled and crossed her fingers. “Good luck,” she mouthed silently.

  I walked to the front of the room, aware that everyone’s attention was focused on me. I pulled myself out of my slouch and scanned my audience. Twenty-six pairs of eyes were focused on me. Twenty-six pairs of ears were tuned in on me. I opened my mouth to speak and this is what popped out: “Two toads terribly tired trotting down the road.”

  At first the silence was deafening, but then the room exploded. Juliana rolled her eyes and Morgan and Nicole doubled up. Winnie dropped her head into her hands and Leah and Madison avoided my eyes. I was mortified.

  I laughed nervously. “Ooops … I’m sorry. I got mixed up. You know how Mrs. Benson had us repeat … you know, in music? Okay, anyway … I’m going to start over again.”

  I looked to Mrs. Doyle for help; she nodded sympathetically and motioned me on. I took a deep breath, just as Winnie had advised.

  Hello, friends, I began, flawlessly this time. I am Aliya and I want to represent you in the school council.

  When I was done, I walked back to my seat quickly and sat down. I felt a little numb and my mouth was so dry I could barely swallow. I did hear some applause; some kids clapped more heartily than others. Winnie’s claps, I noticed, were the loudest. Juliana’s were the phoniest.

  “How did I do?” I whispered to Winnie.

  She held up her thumb. “Great speech.”

  “Thanks,” I mumbled.

  “Except maybe what happened at the beginning?”

  “Let’s not talk about that, okay?” I said.

  Voting began at twelve o’clock. Five minutes later, it was completed.

  “I think you clinched it,” Winnie said.

  Mrs. Doyle rapped for attention. I sucked in air and crossed my fingers under my desk. Juliana, Morgan, and Nicole locked arms and hung on to each other like links in a chain.

  Mrs. Doyle began with a motivational speech: Regardless of the outcome, I congratulate those with the courage to participate in this democratic process, et cetera, et cetera.

  Juliana’s finger twirled and her mouth moved, mimicking our teacher.

  At last Mrs. Doyle turned to the whiteboard to report the outcome of the election. In her elegant cursive, she wrote A-l-i-y-a, then J-u-l-i-a-n-a. She put a great big 1 next to my name and a great big 1 next to Juliana’s. We were neck and neck so far!

  Then Mrs. Doyle slanted a great big 0 next to the 1 by my name. Next to Juliana’s she wrote a great, big … 6!

  Aliya: 10

  Juliana: 16

  It was all over. The class had spoken. Winnie squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She brought her finger and thumb together so they almost touched. “It was this close. You would’ve definitely been the best representative.”

  I appreciated her encouraging words, but I felt like the rug had been yanked from under me. Friendship bracelets and baseball cards had trumped ninety-nine fake diamonds. I scrambled to remember Badi Amma’s emergency pep talk. It was something about being proud of myself no matter what, but my great-grandmother’s words didn’t provide much comfort now. Juliana was the class rep. I was not. I was simply Aliya. Aliya, the loser.

  Aliya, the weirdo.

  Aliya, the alien.

  Aliya, the girl who didn’t have a boyfriend.

  I was still reeling from my defeat when Winnie slid back into her desk. She had heard some news on the way back from the girls’ room.

  “You’re not going to believe this,” she gasped. “Not in a million, trillion years!”

  For a split second, I had a wild thought. Had Mrs. Doyle miscounted the votes? My heart raced. “What?” I hissed. “What happened?”

  There’d been an upset in Mr. Gallagher’s homeroom. Marwa had won!

  I couldn’t believe my ears! Marwa had beat Camden to become the fifth-grade student representative to the council from Mr. Gallagher’s homeroom! I was completely flummoxed! How could it be? How had she done it?

  “What’s her secret, Winnie?”

  “It’s no secret,” she said. “Marwa’s a pretty gutsy kid.”

  “I guess you’re right,” I said. “There was always something special about her. I knew it from day one. I just couldn’t figure out what until now.”

  This was huge. Marwa, newly arrived from Morocco by way of Michigan. Marwa, the Muslim girl in hijab with smelly cheese in her lunch box, had made a statement at Glen Meadow School! She was a winner!

  I was happy for her and I wanted her to know it. After class, I elbowed my way through a human wa
ll three kids deep.

  “Nice job, Marwa,” I said. “You did it! You’ll make a great class rep.”

  “Insha’ Allah,” she said. “God willing. And you?”

  I pointed my thumb downward and shook my head.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I had my fingers crossed for you.”

  “You should’ve heard Marwa’s speech,” Maggie gushed. “It was totally inspiring.”

  That made me wonder. Did Marwa win because her speech had been more forceful than mine? Did she have better word choice?

  “What did you say exactly?” I asked Marwa.

  Sarah answered for her. “She stood there, looking so calm and serene. And then, she said—and I quote—’Friends, we are in this together. We can make a difference if we stick to each other like glue. This is not about you or about me … it is about us, working together and working hand in hand!’“

  Marwa smiled. “Those weren’t my exact words,” she said.

  “Oh well, maybe not a direct quote, but close enough,” Sarah said.

  I didn’t get it. Wasn’t that my message too? Didn’t I also say something along those lines?

  Maybe the difference wasn’t in the message but in the messenger?

  Losers and Winners

  Did you congratulate Juliana?” Baba asked.

  I hadn’t. Her smile had looked mean and gloating, so I’d avoided her for the rest of the day.

  “I hate her, Baba!” I cried.

  “That’s a pretty strong word,” my father said.

  “I mean it! She always beats me at everything and she rolls her eyes when I walk by and she’s always telling me how much she hates spicy foods!”

  “Hmm,” Baba said. “But what if you had walked up to her right away and congratulated her on her victory? It might have made a lasting impact.”

  I stared at him. Had he not heard a single word I said? “She’s got so much going for her: great outfits and fabulous vacations and a really fancy car, and what do I have, huh?”