You complained that your man was not religious, but at least he was kind. Now your husband is a zealot. One day we will hear you complain that this man made you hate Islam. Never will you ask what he meant when he said he hated your Islam, when you rejected his five prayers and his inconspicuous faith. Who knew you could read the hearts of men?
The air in the prayer carries the beautiful scent of musk, its essence renewed by the dabbling of worshippers with the oils on the shelf after almost every ablution. Whenever the sun’s rays penetrate the porthole windows beneath the dome, bathing the burgundy carpet in their yellow-orange glow, the odour lifts and causes friends to smile at one another.
Miss Wheatcroft, she’s a funny one. She’s a white Muslim like the artist formerly known as Cat Stephens except she’s a woman. When I say funny, I don’t mean she’s a comedian. One of my best friends is a white Muslim, I don’t have nothing against it and I don’t mean nothing bad. My friend, she’s a Salafee which means you have to wear short trousers if you’re a man, which she don’t because she aint a man, and you have to wiggle your finger at the end of the prayer, which my friend Aminah also does coz she’s Maliki and they do that too.