In Search of Islam in My Homeland: Part I (unedited)
The Encounter
The women’s session was already in progress when I entered the room. It was my first day today in this meeting, and I was running late. The room was dimly lit, silver Arabic prints on magenta and green colored satin fabrics floated from the ceiling and some framed Arabic script adorned the four walls of the room. The women were sitting on a large bamboo mat covering the floor. As I tip-toed my way inside the room for a place to sit, stepping on books, scarves, and rosaries, I noticed the afternoon sun swam through the yellow curtain glistening the room. Unable to pass through, I greeted the women with “As Salaam u Alaikum” (peace be upon you) and took my place next to the door. I wondered whether or not I had just missed a discussion. An older woman in white sari was speaking, sitting on a green sofa along with the host, whom I met the day before. One of the women asked that everyone make zikr (repetitive recitation of Arabic Islamic words, Arabic God’s name, or Quranic verses. i.e., meditation). A young woman in red and green kameez asked whether everyone had zikr beads (rosaries) and directed us to repeat the Arabic phrases, “La Ilaha illallah” (there is no God but Allah) three hundred times.
The woman in red and green salwar kameez instructed one of the veiled women to lead the zikr. The women closed their eyes, bobbed their heads from left to right, rhythmically, chanting “La Ilaha illallah.” As they continued this meditation, many of them seemed to do this in complete absorption. I joined the meditation, reciting, but did not bob my head and kept my eyes wide open to observe. When we had reached one hundred repetitions, the woman in red and green kameez bellowed her command across the room “one hundred.” The chanting came to an end, when we heard the azan for asr.
As the women were preparing to make namaz (prayer), I inquired a woman sitting next to me whether or not we were making namaz collectively in congregation.
Raising eyebrows and rolling her eyes, “No. we can’t lead the prayer. Women aren’t allowed to lead prayers.”
I asked, “I thought women can lead prayers among women?”
She shook her head, ignoring my question and got up to make her namaz. I followed her to the other side of the room to say my prayers.
After prayers, the host of the house introduced me to the group, “This is (my name), a student from Amreeka. She has come from Amreeka to learn about Islam.”
Some women were busy saying their prayers, some looked at me perturbed, while others mumbled and giggled behind their veils. Uncomfortable about the giggles, I acknowledged the group by waving and smiling.
The host came up to me and said, “You know, there are some problems with the way you pray.”
Embarrassed after getting caught making a mistake I inquired, “Oh, I do? In what ways?”
While showing me the proper ways of making sejdah she told me, “…your elbows should touch the floor or else you’re not praying correctly.”
I questioned, “I thought they are not supposed to touch the ground?”
She shook her head and asserted, “No, no. That’s how men pray. Men’s elbows don’t touch the ground, but women’s elbows should always touch the ground. You also need to lower your bottom. I have seen women in Arabia pray like this,” showing me the sitting posture, “with their bottom up when they go to sejdah. But, that’s how men pray.”
I kept nodding my head attentively and wondered how to respond to her. Since this was the first time I confronted something like this in my home country, I was searching for a smart response to assert myself. The ideas in my head kept searching for the hadis (sayings of the prophet) that addressed sejdah, but I was unable to find it right then and there.
She further added and simultaneously made the bodily movements for the second time, “People in our country pray like this…and, why do you say takbir when you go and come up from ruku? That is not the Hanafi method of our country. You’ll see people elsewhere pray this way. I have seen it in Arabia, Iraq, but they are not correct.”
With a questioning, uncertain shaky voice I added, “I think there are different methods of saying the prayers?”
The woman in red and green kameez folding her prayer rug rushed into our conversation and interjected looking at the host, “Apa, you know people like to argue with you over these things. You tell them what is right and they challenge you when they don’t even know themselves.
Not knowing how to react to her riposte I hesitantly asked, “Uhm…there are so many groups–who is correct?”
The woman in red and green kameez promptly shot back, “Tabligh. They are right and observe the correct methods of the prophet,” and other women around us concurred with her by nodding their heads. She vocalizes, “You’ve come from America to learn about Islam, right? Come to our meetings every Tuesday and Sunday and you will learn the ‘true’ Islam…”
From My Field Diary
…what is this ‘true’ Islam? Why was I not able to think of that hadith about sujud? Why did I draw a blank? That lady is wrong about sujud! Why did I not tell her she was praying incorrectly? Will I not be asked whether I informed people about what I knew to be the truth about Islam?…
After they interrogated me and taught me the “proper” praying etiquettes, the woman in red and green kameez asked the speaker whether we should continue with zikr or begin topical discussion. Other women in the room supported discussion. The speaker began reciting and everyone chorused after her Sura Fatiha, Astagfirullah, and Kalimaah Tanjeel. The speaker took out a book to read from her purse while all the women tuned in to her.
“Rasulallah (sawas) is very important to us, that’s why we need to learn Kaleemah. If we read it, Allah will keep our head clear and make our life easy in this world. If we read the Kaleemah at the time of our death, the soul leaves our body peacefully. Similarly, namaz is also very important. Namaz makes life easy in the world and protects us from danger and evil. And, 30,000 roads to heaven will be paved for those who make their namaz regularly. Praising our Rasulallah is also important. On the Day of Judgment, he will smile at us if we make zikr. Hazrat Bashir Ahmed made zikr all night and day crying to Allah for our Rasulallah (sawas). This is how Allah’s best servants worshipped and loved Allah and loved the Rasulallah (sawas). Those who spend time otherwise will be thrown into the fire…”
Women in the room uttered together, “Subhanallah,” while others yelled “Nawzubillah.”
The speaker continued, “Women and men should zikr separately. There are some folks who make zikr in mixed congregation and they do it in dark. That’s the work of Shaytan.”
Some women indicated agreement and started to name some mixed-gender zikr groups, giggling and talking among themselves when the host of the house caught me looking at her, “How do you do zikir in Amreeka?”
“Uhm…I’ve actually never been to a zikr session like this before…and…”
The woman in red and green kameez abruptly interposed, “Apa people there don’t even do namaz, how can they know about zikr or zakat or other works of deen?”
While nodding my head I said, “People pay zakat in….”
One of the three veiled women interrupted, “That’s not a Muslim country…” looking at the speaker, “Apa, will Allah accepts zakat there?”
The speaker looking a little annoyed at the digression, “How will we face Allah if our luggage is empty? We will not enter paradise if we have no luggage to take with us. So, when we go to Allah we need to have a filled luggage. If one doesn’t pay zakat, they are outside of Islam and do not accrue good deeds…”
She went on to reading an excerpt from a book for ten minutes and someone warned her about the time for maghrib (dusk prayer). The speaker raised her hands up in the air for munazat (supplication) and uttered some Arabic dua’s (supplication) then implored,
“O Allah, you blessed us today to gather here to learn about You, our Rasulallah and our Deen. O Allah! You are Peace, and All Peace is from You. And all Peace returns to You. O Master of Power and Glory. Send peace to our Rasulallah, and progenies and followers living and dead. Oh Allah, Forgive us all our sins, great and small, the first and the last, those that are apparent and those that are hidden… Oh Allah, we seek Protection in Your Pleasure. We seek Protection in Your Forgiveness from Your Punishment. We Seek Protection in You from You. We cannot count Your Praises. You are as You have Praised Yourself.”
All the women with their hands in supplication listened attentively while some began to shed tears. I hastened to write down the words with one hand and kept the other in supplication.
A woman sitting in the middle of the room yelled, “Make it short, Apa. It’s getting late..”
Rubbing her palms over her face, gesturing the completion of munazat and looking at the audience the speaker says, “I read that long munazat because we need to pray for all of humanity, for our relatives, parents, all prophets. It is important that we are unselfish in our dua...”
A woman in brown burka (long over garment) and niqab (face veil ) concurred adding, “Apa, you are right, but we don’t have time today. Don’t we have to finish zikr?”
The women picked up their rosaries and began to chant “La Ilaha Illallah.” Once finished, each woman went around making dua.
The woman continued with this and began to supplicate to the prophet. I felt a little troubled with raising my hand for supplication. I haven’t been taught to supplicate to the Prophet in this manner and was not sure whether that was ‘Islamic’. I didn’t believe in asking or supplicating to the prophet or another human being for anything.
A woman in black burka began, “O Allah, all praise to you, the Most Merciful an Most Gracious! Have mercy on all your creation and for our sins. Forgive my every sin I have committed and every mistake I have made. O Allah, I ask You with the asking of a submissive and lowly person to show me mercy. Glory be to You. All praise is to You. I have wronged myself. And I have been ignorant and depended upon without gratitude. Your favor toward me is infinite. O Allah, you are my protector. How many ugly things You have concealed. How many hardships and tribulations You have abolished…”
Crying profusely she continued, “…And my continuous negligence and my ignorance…and my manifold passions and forgetfulness…My Lord, have mercy upon the weaknesses of my body, the thinness of my skin and the frailty of my bones… and by Your might, o Allah, be kind to me in all states and be gracious to me in all affairs…”
The room vibrated with the synchronicity of the women lamenting. Eyes imbued in tears, chorus of weeping, and the refrained twinge enveloped the atmosphere. The thought of massive sins and good deeds smaller than a stone reverberated me into sobbing with the women, finding it difficult to take notes.
After a few more women made individual supplication, some women taking off their dupatta (long scarf that covered the head and torso) sat around, chewing betel leaves and chatting over tea. I followed the women and took off my hijab as it was very humid inside the room, when two middle-aged women with a smirk approached me, “You’ve come from Amrika?”
I nodded in affirmative.
The woman in orange sari in a chary voice, “You speak [our language] well.”
“I was born and lived here for sometimes.”
With an inquisitive face, the woman in orange sari, “Where are your parents?”
“They also live in America, but currently they are here as well.”
The woman in orange sari took my right palm into her palm in a way as if she was inspecting something and the other woman in burka inquired, “Are you married?”
Hesitantly, I answered in affirmative and wondered what was she searching for in my palms.
After inspecting my both palms, she stretched her hands towards my head, touching and playing with my hair. Keeping a restrained smile, I try to pull my hair back towards me. Smiling and feeling my hair again, she commented on the length of my hair and added, “My brother and sister-in-law live in Amreeka. She and her two daughters have cut their hair short like men. The daughters don’t listen to their parents, can’t speak Bangla well, don’t pray, wear improper clothes, short skirts… They have become too “Amreekan.” Mashallah, you can pray and dress and can talk like ‘us’…” …… to be continued….
Preview of Sec 2, Part I
The Arrival
It was a humid day when I stepped outside of the airport in May 2004 but the sky appeared cloudy. There was a mushroom of black cloud hovering in the sky. I was not sure if they were clouds or polluted air but as the warm breeze touched my cheek, I knew I was back to my childhood. When I was placing my luggage in the car, a group of homeless persons (i.e., beggars) circled around me asking for money, “Ma’m, you came from bidesh, give us some money.” Homeless persons were not new to me, yet this appeared new and strange. I have not had anyone ask for money this way for a long time, and a dose of reality sank in.
After having lived in the U.S for sixteen years, I arrived in my home country in a time of turmoil. The front pages of newspapers on the day I landed reported about some “Islamist” extremist groups, operating in the northwest provinces of the country. Within a few days of my stay and the day before the U.S. Secretary of Defense, Donald Rumsfeld arrived, hundreds of activists took to the streets in the capital city, protesting against his visit. As Rumsfield was one of the main planners for Iraq’s invasion, the activists and political leaders demanded cancellation of Rumsfield’s tour to the country. People I conversed with were outraged and many held a common belief that Rumsfield was going to ask Bangladesh to send troops to Iraq.
To be continued…
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