Fatimah

Fatimah(A.E.Saker) My story starts on a Saturday when I was going out to meet some friends. I thought it would be the same as every Saturday, hanging out and playing basketball in one of my friend's yard. But to my surprise, I was totally wrong. My whole life turned upside down and i am not the old Justine anymore. Let me tell you how this all got started!! I stopped by John's home and then we both went to pick up Jack. But while I was going out from john's car, I saw a girl crossing the road. "Oh my Gosh, she's gonna die", I screamed out loud.then I hurried to catch her. well, I did not really see her face or anythinhg like that. It all happened in a matter of seconds. I just woke up to find myself in hospital. I was just twenty one at the time. I had never been in love. But I was hoping this girl could be the one I was waiting for. But I was never that lucky, I told myself. John was sitting beside my bed. Once I opened my eyes, I asked him; where am I? and where is she? is she okay? Then I came to know that she was fine, safe and sound. But I was not. I broke my right leg while attempting to rescue miss. mysterious. But doctors said there was nothing to worry about. John told me he went to check up on her. But to his surprise and mine, she remembered nothing. Apparently she lost her memory. I really felt sorry for her. But when I set my eyes on her for the first time, I thanked God who had blessed me by making her without a memory. She is not Mona Lisa. And she is not Angelina. But she was much like Austen's Elizabeth Bennet. she would talk about anything and made you wonder how a girl on her age, around 19, and with no memory, could argue that way? When I looked her in the eye, I felt I was destined to fall in her love. And I really did. I loved her like no one did. I even thought it is Romeo and Juliet again. I called mum to ask her if I could bring Love with me. Yes I called her Love. And yes I was still living with family. I was still studying and a lot to pay for. mother was really kind and asked me to be polite. Love stayed with me, mum and my younger brother for a whole year. I could not help it. I loved her every day more than the day before. she was afraid at first. She wondered what if she had someone in her life. But she could not help it either. yet She was being so careful and tried as much as she could to hide it. I tried once and twice to get close to her. But she always kept a distance. There was something different about her. No, not the accent. She looked like us too. But the way she phrased her words was a bit different, yet so interesting. Sometimes she would stay alone silent for hours doing nothing but thinking. She was helping my mum with everything at home. She even baked for us. She was also helping Adam my younger brother with his home work. But one day after a year of family happiness, she suddenly remembered something. We were watching tv as every evening. There was in a show a man who had a tattoo in Arabic. Love read it for us. Then it all suddenly hit her. She was a Muslim and that is why she could read the tattoo. She said she learnt Arabic language when she was memorizing the verses of the holy Koran at her six. Her parents were Muslims too and so they taught her Arabic and Koran. She was from another state, but was here in a visit. All her things were stolen from her just an hour before that accident. And no one thus could knew who she was. Her name was Fatimah, after the name of Prophet Muhammad's daughter. At that moment, I recognized why she was so unique in almost every thing. we helped her to return home safe. Mum was so sad to lose the daughter she never had. I never stopped loving Fatimah. she was not engaged or anything. But in her religion, they cannot date anyone. He must be her fiancee for her to go out with him. They cannot intend to have a man and woman relationship till married. Anything out of wedlock is adultery, as I understood from them. Muslim men can marry any woman who believes in God, like a Christian or a Jew, as long as she is chaste. But Muslim girls only marry Muslim men. I knew then I could take no further step. I felt so bad as if chained. But I was deeply in love with her. I could not stay a moment without thinking of her. Then I decided to read about her religion. I was never a real Christian. I never went to Church. Yet I was saying my prayers every night. The first thing to catch my eye while searching the web for more information was this: a Muslim man asked by a non Muslim; why do your women cover their body and also their hair? The Muslim then took two candies from his pocket, both were covered. He then uncovered one and left the other intact. Then he threw them both into the ground and asked; if I ask you to take one for yourself, which one will you pick? He said; the covered of course. "The Muslim then smiled and said; that is how we Muslim men look to and treat women. They are like gold, always needing to be protected. And covering their bodies protects them from wolves. "I really like Fatimah's clothes. I really want her always protected. And I wish nobody sees her beauty but me. Oddly enough, the Muslim man mentioned a verse from the Koran that states the same meaning: ‘And say to the faithful women to lower their gazes, and to guard their private parts, and not to display their beauty except what is apparent of it, and to extend their headcoverings (khimars) to cover their bosoms (jaybs), and not to display their beauty except to their husbands, or their fathers, or their husband's fathers, or their sons, or their husband's sons, or their brothers, or their brothers' sons, or their sisters' sons, or their womenfolk, or what their right hands rule (slaves), or the followers from the men who do not feel sexual desire, or the small children to whom the nakedness of women is not apparent, and not to strike their feet (on the ground) so as to make known what they hide of their adornments. And turn in repentance to Allah together, O you the faithful, in order that you are successful.’

Wondering what happened then? Well, Fatimah and I are married. alhamdluallah.


By A.E. Saker