folio

My wife has an old friend visiting today. In my lunch break, I was charged with taking two of her children to jummah.

“I’m sorry,” I told the eldest boy, intent on managing expectations, “it’s not what you’re used to in London. There will be a long bayaan in Punjurdu… then a short one in English… then a sort of sung, recited khutbah…”

The young lad, now a first-year medical student, was alright about that, more forgiving than his dad would have been. So we headed off in good time, lest we miss the English speech. As is my way, I was apologetic again for parking so far from the mosque; I can’t abide inconveniencing the neighbours.

But as happenstance or misfortune would have it, the setup was even more peculiar than normal. The khatib was a guest, possibly even visiting from abroad, sporting a big bushy beard and turban. No sign of our usual imams; presumably they’re on umrah. I asked Google Translate to transcribe for me, but it just came up with “lame puppy” then timed out. Helpful.

Alas, despite being in the midst of school holidays, when the mosque would be full of children and teenagers, there was no English speech at all today. I can’t honestly say whether that’s a bad thing. Suffice to say, our guests didn’t understand a word of it, which would bring them in line with a significant proportion of the regular congregation.

On the way back to the car afterwards, they were a bit perturbed. I’m apologetic yet again. I had to admit it was strange for me too, moving here from London, so used to the diverse and inclusive communities there. But I’ve got used to it, more or less. It’s only when we have guests visiting from elsewhere that I’m reminded how off this situation is.

It’s as if our valley is caught in a time-warp, some thirty years behind the rest of the nation. We might even be residing in a parallel universe in which our little town is actually an independent enclave of Mirpur. Once more my mind is on hijra, thinking we should migrate on to a more cosmopolitan town: one with a large student population, or a community of professionals.

The outside observer might ask: “Why are you doing this to yourself?” But the reality is, this is a universal faith — a call to all mankind — which just so happens to have been made provincial by some of its constituents. I didn’t jump onboard this caravan to make myself other than what I am. I was responding to the call of the One. For those that wonder, read this: One God.