The Garden of My Imaan

by Farhana Zia

  A couple of days later, Marwa thrust a small packet in my hand as we were leaving the cafeteria. “Open it,” she said.

  I tore the paper apart and a square cloth, the color of a pink rosebud, slipped out. Marwa caught it before it hit the ground.

  “Ready for Hijab 101?” she said. Before I could reply, she had formed the soft square into a neat triangle and draped it around my head with an expert flourish. “Hold still,” she commanded, and she proceeded to drape and pleat and pin and wrap and knot it. “There!” She stepped back to examine her handiwork.

  “How do I look?” I fingered the soft beak at the forehead. Marwa made a circle with her thumb and index finger to show her approval. “You didn’t have to spend your pocket money on me,” I said. “You could have bought something for yourself.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said. “It’s a belated Eid present.”

  The hijab felt snug and secure. I’d tell Mom that the long Indian scarf was all wrong for prayers. We needed proper scarves and then we’d never have to worry about them slipping down our heads each time our foreheads touched the image of the Kaaba on our prayer mats.

  “Thanks, Marwa,” I said. “It’s really sweet of you.” I started to unfasten the safety pin since it was time to go back in, but then I stopped. Marwa was squinting at me.

  “What’s wrong? Do I look completely funny?” I asked in alarm.

  Before I knew it, her fingers were gently tugging, tucking, and fluttering around my head all over again.

  “You look perfectly fine,” she smiled, her eyes following her fingers. “It just needed a little more tweaking.”

  “I really don’t know how you do it …,” I began, trying to hold still.

  “What do you mean?” She took a step back to re-examine her work.

  “Well, I’ve asked this before, but I really want to know. Are you ever embarrassed to wear this thing at school?”

  Marwa shook her head. “Why should I be? I wear hijab on my head and I wear sneakers on my feet for PE. It’s pretty simple.”

  “It’s not the same thing,” I said. “Nobody notices sneakers. But a hijab … it’s way out there!”

  Marwa nodded. “It’s in everyone’s face, right? But without it I’d probably feel the way you’d feel without sneakers for PE.”

  “But …”

  “This is who I am, Aliya,” Marwa went on. “And I am okay with it. Really.”

  She sounded so sure. She looked so sure.

  “I wish I could think like you,” I said.

  Marwa smiled. “Just be you. This suits you and it’s not going to slip off either. Go ahead and test it out. Shake your head really hard.”

  I shook my head till I was dizzy but the hijab didn’t budge an inch. I went over the steps of Hijab 101 again: form a triangle … drape … pleat … pin … wrap … knot.

  “It’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it,” Marwa reassured me. “I can show you the trendier ways later, if you like.”

  As we walked back to the building, we passed two kids from Marwa’s homeroom. “Hey, we were watching you two back there,” one of them said. “You look exactly alike.”

  Marwa and I looked at each other and smiled. “Thanks,” we said at the same time, and then we both laughed.

  Friday, March 21

  10:00 p.m.

  Dear Allah,

  My feelings are pretty mixed up right now. Marwa and Austin are getting along, but he still hates me. What works for Marwa doesn’t seem to work for me.

  Except for the scarf … or should I say hijab? It stayed on just like hers does. Winnie, Leah, and Madison thought I looked cute so I kept it on. When Juliana rolled her eyes, I rolled mine right back.

  I’ve been thinking … I told Marwa people don’t notice sneakers like they notice the hijab, but that’s not really true. Mr. Forbes, our PE teacher, notices right away! So I guess what I’m saying is people notice, one way or the other.

  I paid Marwa a compliment today. I thought she’d be happy I wanted to be like her. But guess what? She just waved her hand and said, “Oh, just be you.”

  Yours truly,

  A

  PS I tried smiling at Austin a couple of times today but he ignored me. I don’t know what else to do. Maybe tomorrow I’ll try complimenting him about his bike or something.

  PPS On a happier note, I think Winnie and I are getting an A on our project!

  PPPS Sister Khan’s Steps to Success project is due in a couple of weeks. I’m going to hand in this notebook, along with a paragraph explaining everything. But first I’ll sit down and think carefully about what to say.

  PPPPS What’s in our head can do more harm than what’s on it. (I’m writing this again so I don’t forget).

  Farewell

  Zayd and I were watching TV, but I couldn’t pay attention. I kept listening for the phone; I’d been waiting for hours for Nafees to call. Earlier at the Islamic Center she’d promised to fill me in on the latest news about Damien. When the phone finally rang, I jumped off the sofa and ran to pick it up.

  “Tell me everything, Nafees,” I commanded. “Right now!”

  “It’s not Nafees. It’s me, Marwa.”

  I was really surprised. Marwa was the last person I expected to call.

  “Hey, Marwa. What’s up?”

  And Marwa told me. She was moving!

  It took me a full ten seconds to grasp what she had said.

  “What? Moving?” I sputtered. “When? Why?”

  “As soon as school’s out. My father got a better job offer in Los Angeles. I wanted to tell you first.”

  “Thanks a lot,” I said. “I’m glad you wanted to let me know first, but I’m not exactly jumping up and down with joy at the news. I’m really going to miss you!”

  “I’m happy we got to be friends,” she said after a pause. “I hope you can visit some day.”

  “Does Austin know?” I asked.

  “I’ll call him next.”

  “I bet he’s going to be pretty mad you’re leaving,” I said. “He’ll probably take it out on me!”

  There was silence at the other end.

  “Are you there?” I asked.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I wish you were staying,” I said.

  More silence.

  “We’ll e-mail each other, all right?” she said after a little while. “We’ll still be friends.”

  “Yes, yes, yes!” I screamed in the receiver.

  Sunday, April 5

  9:30 p.m.

  Dear Allah,

  Marwa’s moving to Los Angeles when school ends. She said she wanted me to be the first one to know. I don’t mind telling You, I am pretty upset! We were getting to be real good friends and she was helping me in lots of ways. But guess what? I am not going to wallow. I’m going to be happy for her and wish her a good life in California.

  Yours truly,

  A

  PS Badi Amma says the hardest arithmetic to master is the one that allows us to count our own blessings. Well, I’ve been feeling pretty blessed lately and here’s why:

  • Marwa came! And she became my friend.

  • I told Austin I bet he was the best biker in the whole school. “No kidding!” he snorted, but he didn’t call me Alien.

  • Amma tells me I’ve planted my own mango seed and my garden will bloom as long as I keep it watered. I think “mango” and “water” are metaphors. We studied about those in English.

  • I don’t feel like such a fraidy cat anymore! Al humdu lillah!

  I read the letter over. It sounded like a pretty good conclusion. I flipped back to the beginning of my notebook and proofread all my letters for spelling and punctuation mistakes. It was a decent collection; I felt pretty confident that this was what Sister Khan had in mind. Now there was only one thing that remained. I gathered some thoughts together, turned on my laptop, and typed up an introductory statement.

  Steps to Success

  Religion 2: Sister Khan


  Submitted by Aliya S.

  For this project, I wrote letters to Allah. I am submitting twenty letters. I started writing before Ramadan began and I kept going.

  Writing the letters helped me a lot. At first, I just wrote them because it helped to put my feelings down, but later I began to do more. My mother would say that at some point, I began to climb out of the hole. I didn’t understand at first, but I understand better now.

  I understand a lot of things a lot better now.

  I hope that you will approve of my project. I worked really hard at it and I think I improved.

  Respectfully submitted,

  Aliya

  My project was done. I picked up the notebook and went downstairs to show Badi Amma.

  Extra Credits

  On Monday, Mrs. Doyle came up with another one of her impossible assignments. This time it was an extra-credit writing challenge. Thinking about it was driving me bananas, but Winnie was her usual cool self. A week passed before I finally convinced her that we needed to give the project our undivided attention. We agreed to meet at her house.

  We had our work cut out for us. There were a ton of vocabulary words; we had to put them all together in a good story that made sense.

  Winnie made us both some lemonade and we carried it up to her room.

  “How are we going to put thorps, tresses, coot, and audacious in the same story?” I asked. We had other words like indefatigable, delirious, befuddled, anatomy, propel, curmudgeon, slovenly, and vivacious to worry about too.

  Winnie pondered the question for a moment. “We could make up a story about a befuddled old curmudgeon named OCD who lives in a propel thorp in Minneapolis with a slovenly grandniece named Alien whose anatomy consists of long, dark tresses and who has an audacious coot named Zayd for a pet.”

  “Ha, ha … very funny!” I said. “There is no such thing as a propel thorp and Alien doesn’t have to be slovenly. She could be vivacious.”

  “Picky, picky!” Winnie said.

  “And besides, what about indefatigable and delirious and doldrums and the zillion other words?”

  “You worry too much,” Winnie said, crunching ice between her teeth.

  “Nuh-uh.” I sipped my lemonade. It felt cold on my tongue. “I’m mostly wondering.” Actually I was a teeny bit worried. I couldn’t help it. But I felt like things would be okay. We’d pull it off somehow, just like we had with the independent study project.

  I tipped my glass up to my mouth and the ice hit my teeth. I took another big gulp of my lemonade and swished it around in my mouth. The icy sweetness coursed down my throat and cooled me off.

  No, I wasn’t exactly worried.

  Winnie and I were good partners … we’d figure out indefatigable and delirious and bravado sooner or later. We’d get it all done in good time.

  “It’s about time, Aliya,” Zayd growled. “Where were you anyway? In China?”

  “Apa!” Amma reminded him from the sink. “She’s Aliya Apa. Why do you have to be reminded a hundred times in a day?”

  I ignored my brother and plopped down on the sofa. I closed my eyes and let my thoughts float freely. I found myself thinking about Marwa. Before she moved away, I’d invite her to walk the spongy trails that wound around the lake through the trees. Together we’d look for wild mushrooms and rabbits; we might even spot a deer if we got lucky. Later, we’d dip our toes in the cool water and run our fingers through the oatmeal-colored sand. We’d eat the samosas that Amma would insist we take along.

  I’d invite her first thing at school on Monday.

  I stretched my legs out on the couch and watched images changing rapidly on the TV screen. My brother lay sprawled on the rug with his chin cupped in his palms. “I’m going to my room,” I called to my grandmother.

  The scent of OCD’s rose-petal attar still lingered, but the room didn’t ring with crazy cries of “Aii! Tauba, tauba!” I lay down on my bed and stared at the tulle canopy, ruffled and frothy. I closed my eyes and lay as still as the American Girl doll that stood on my shelf.

  After a while, I got up. I rummaged in my drawer for Marwa’s gift, the pink hijab that went perfectly with so many of my clothes. I tied it on, just the way she had showed me. Step one: form a triangle. Step two: drape. Step three: pleat. Step four: pin. Step five: wrap. Step six: knot.

  I patted my head and stared at the girl in the mirror.

  I stared and I stared and she smiled back at me.

  Words and Phrases in Arabic

  Aliya and her family are Muslims. Arabic is the language in which the Koran, the Muslim holy book, is written, and Muslims use many Arabic words both in their religious practice and in their daily life. Translations of words used in the text appear below.

  Abbayah: A long, loose gown worn over clothing, intended to hide the curves of a woman’s body

  Adan: The call to prayer

  Al humdu lillah: Praise be to Allah

  Allah: The Muslim name for God

  Allahu Akbar: God is great

  Ameen: Amen

  Assalam alaikum: Peace be upon you

  Bismillah: In the name of Allah

  Eid: Islamic celebration of either one of two events— completion of Ramadan or the completion of the pilgrimage to the Kaaba in Mecca

  Eid Mubrook: An Eid greeting equivalent to Happy Eid

  Halal: Meat slaughtered in the prescribed manner, with the name of God spoken at the time of the kill

  Hijab: A scarf worn to cover the hair on the head

  Iftar: A light meal eaten to break the Ramadan fast at sunset

  Imaan: Belief; faith

  Imam: A person qualified to lead the congregation in prayer

  Insha’ Allah: God willing

  Kaaba: The first house of worship in Mecca, believed to have been built by Prophet Abraham

  La hol walla: There is no power except God Almighty

  Ma’sha Allah: As God has willed; used as an expression of wonderment and compliment

  Makah Sharif: Revered Mecca

  Mecca: A city in Saudi Arabia; the birthplace of Prophet Muhammad

  Ramadan: The month during which Muslims observe a thirty-day fast

  Ramadan Mubrook: Happy Ramadan

  Suhur: The pre-dawn meal eaten before the Ramadan fast

  Wa lil lahil hamd: All praises and thanks are for Him

  Wudu: The Islamic procedure for washing parts of the body using water, typically in preparation for formal prayers

  Words and Phrases in Urdu

  Aliya and her family use words and phrases in Urdu, the language spoken by most Muslims in India and Pakistan. Urdu is written right to left, in a modified version of the Persian alphabet, which is itself a derivative of the Arabic alphabet. Translations of words used in the text appear below.

  Aa-ee-ay, thushreef la-ee-ay: Oh, come. Please do come! You are welcome!

  Aap theek hain: Are you all right?

  Accha: Okay; all right

  Acchi bacchi: Good girl

  Adab: A respectful greeting used by Muslims in the Indian subcontinent, performed by raising a cupped right hand to one’s forehead

  Ai hai!: Oh dear, o woe is me!

  Aii: An exclamation of surprise, disapproval, disbelief

  Amma: commonly used term for mother

  Apa: Elder sister

  Arre arre: Oh, what a shame.

  Baba: Father

  Badi Amma: Big mother (literal translation)

  Baghare baigan: Heavily spiced eggplant curry dish

  Biryani: Highly seasoned, aromatic rice with meat or vegetables

  Budmash: Naughty, bad

  Chaat: A savory snack typically made with chickpeas, potatoes, and tamarind sauce

  Chacha: Paternal uncle

  Choti Dahdi: Small paternal grandmother (literal translation)

  Chup chaap: Silent, quiet

  Churidar: Long, tight-fitting trousers worn by Indian men and women, worn with a kurta (a long, tunic like shirt) or a khameez


  Dua: A prayer said for a specific purpose, not requiring a prayer mat

  Dusterkhan: A long and narrow cloth, spread on the floor and used as a tablecloth.

  Dhal: Lentil; spiced lentil curry

  Dupatta: Long scarf, worn over the bosom and shoulders, which may be draped over the head

  Eid Mubarak: An Eid greeting equivalent to Happy Eid

  Eidi: A small monetary Eid gift for children

  Hanh: Yes

  Juldi: Quickly

  Khala: Maternal aunt

  Khameez: A long tunic with side seams left open below the waistline

  Khorma: A type of curry dish made with meat, poultry, or vegetables, and seasoned with spices, nuts and seed pastes in a yogurt base

  Khuda Hafiz: May God protect you

  Kut: A heavily seasoned thick tomato sauce

  Kya: What?

  Kya bole?: What did you say?

  Lumbu: Tall person

  Mai abhi ayee: I just got here

  Mamu: Maternal uncle

  Meri Jaan: An endearment that means “My life”

  Nai: No

  Phupu: Paternal aunt

  Pulao: Rice flavored with spices and cooked in stock, to which meat or vegetables may be added

  Roti: Unleavened bread

  Sari: A garment consisting of a length of cotton or silk, elaborately draped around the body, traditionally worn by women from the Indian subcontinent

  Shaan Charga: A brand of spices

  Shabaash: Well done

  Shalvar: Baggy pants

  Sheer khorma: A traditional Eid dessert, made with fine vermicelli, milk, sugar, nuts, raisins and dates

  Shervani: A long, coatlike formal garment made with heavy suiting fabric

  Tauba: For shame

  Tum kub aye: When did you come?

  Ujjad: Bad, awful, horrible

  Farhana Zia grew up in Hyderabad, India. She is an elementary school teacher and the author of picture books and novels, including Hot, Hot Roti for Dada-Ji and Child of Spring. The Garden of My Imaan was inspired by a visit to her nephew’s home in Illinois, where multigenerational family members coexist beautifully and enrich each other’s lives every day. Her stories blend humor and tradition, memories and contemporary moments. Ms. Zia lives in Massachusetts.