The Book In Me

A long time ago, when I was in from four at KIK, Ustaz H from an art stream class filled in for Ustaz Taha, our Islamic Study teacher who was sick that day. While he was standing in front of the class reciting a some surahs, Mrs. Yusuff, our English teacher walked passed by. Ustz H, stopped from reciting, looked at Mrs. Yusuff and greeted her loudly, too loud as Mrs. Yusuff was about ten feet from where he was standing.
"Assalamualaikum, Mrs. Yusuff." He twitched his right eyes at us before he turned to look at Mrs. Yusuff. Mrs. Yusuff, stopped in her track looked up from her papers in her arms, and responded, "same to you." She smiled and walked on.

He walked to the door and strained his neck toward Mrs. Yusuff direction, he walked back to his desk and said "Kenape le Encik Yusuff kawin dengan Cina buruk tu." (I wonder why Mr. Yusuff married to that ugly Chinese). His eyes twinkled and his cocky grinned spread over his acne-ridden marked face.
The male students thought it was hillarious, they laughed at his racist, degatory remark. He shook his head as he tried to make sense of something that he believed he had every right to interfere with. I'll always remember every arrogant word he said that morning. I'll always remember a smirk on his face when he said it.
It wasn't the first time that kind of words passed his mouth, the mouth which repeatedly said Asthagfirullah, Subhanallah in his conversation. What he said that morning had convinced my adolescent years that people who like to go around telling the world they are more religous than you are by their dressing or their way of talking are the most judgemental and the most racist people I come across. They rationalize their words and their judgemental acts by reciting a surah or stories of our Prophet
What kind of god do they worship if they believe they are better than a person next to them.
What kind of teaching do they follow if they can't accept the differences and under the same breath they say Islam is about tolerance.

Mrs. Yusuff was a slender pleasant looking woman. She was a wonderful teacher who had always went out of her way to help the students. She was not the most beautiful woman, but she wasn't bad looking either.
What made him annoyed at her to say such a thing? Then it hit me. I'd seen other ustazs greeted
Mrs. Yusuff and she responded them by saying "Waalaikumsalam". But to ustaz H, she'd just said, "Same to you."

I didn't understand much about racism then, but I never liked the way some Malays talk about Chinese, Indians and non-Muslims. The smug on their faces, the tones they carry out the words. I remember many years ago a luxury condominium collapsed in Lembah Kelang and hundreds of people died in it. It was the first kind of disaster ever happenned back then. One of the victim was the son of Datuk Musal Hitam. People were talking about it in great lenght. All kind of theories came up. Once, a rather popular Ulamak, an Islamic sholar was invited on an Islamic program on tv. I remember a host asked him about the disaster through an Islam pov. I don't remember exactly the words he used, but all I could remember he said the disaster was the way god punished the sinners who lived in the building.
Before he answered the host question, he began with, "In the name of God, the t Compassionate, the Merciful." And yet where was his compassion and sensitivity when he answered the question.

When an earthquake killed 35,00 Iranians in Gilan and Zanjan in 1990, I waited to read about the same ulamak reaction. Nothing. But all they could said was the will of god. Later by December another earthquake in Bam south-eastern of Iran, claimed 15,000 Iranians lives. Again, the will of god.

What promted me to write about this was a couple of days ago I ran into an Algerian guy I met when I was waitessing at a restaurant in Harvard Square. I must admit he is a good looking man. Over six feet, a gym enthusiast. The girls at work were crazy about him. But he never dated other than blond girls. I never seen him with Algerian girl either. The Algerian girls here have become too Americanized, he said.

He lived in Paris for three years and speaks French effortlessly. he told me he has two daughters by a French woman. He left France when his youngest daughter was two months old and his oldest daughter was three years old. It was 10 years ago.
He never made an effort to keep in touch with his children's mother nor his children. I asked him would he had done differently if they were his sons. He'd just smiled.

Now, he told me he was returning home to marry his cousin. It's an arranged marriage.He hasn't seen the girl since she was 14, but he knows she is a respected girl. Somehow his story is not much different from the story I've heard before.

Reading:

I finished Ladies Coupe' by Anita Nair which hooked me up from chapter one. I've been reading novels by Indian authors lately like a first month-pregnant woman craving for a young crispy mango. I pore every page like I sink my teeth into sweet flesh mango, dripping with juice.

Each character reminds me of the women I've known back home. Their struggles, their hopes, their pains, their joys, their silent cries rip every fabric of my being. All of them are in me. They are me, I am them.

Comments

[anasalwa]

Pak Adib: You're right we should be careful to choose our teachers. But when you were 16 and in a rigid and stiff high shcool atmosphere, when the principal NEVER smiled to any of the students who crossed his path, what choices did you have to select the teachers?

Beth: Thank you for stopping by and your comment. I enjoy reading your mind-stimulates entries.

[beth]

Salaam, Ana. I love what you are writing here and the sensibility you are expressing. Please keep going! I will be coming back often to read your stories and learn how the world looks from your point of view. Thank you very much for the link to my blog. (Your reading list looks terrific, by the way!)

[Adib]

Ana,
That so called ustaz should NOT be teaching at KIK.He doesnot even understand what he is talking about.

I am very selective about who are my teachers.

[Norzu]

Salam. Thanks for dropping by my blog. I like yours and will definitely check in every now and then.