New friend, new views of the world
When an Egyptian student stayed with them, an American family broadened its views of the Middle East and its people.
By Pamela Freundl Kirstfrom the November 29, 2007 edition
Page 1 of 2
There's a Muslim guy living in our house, downstairs beyond the kitchen. This is not a dream, fantasy, or delusion; he's really there.
Abdul left Egypt and arrived in the United States on Sept. 11 a little more than a year ago. The inauspicious date provided the only open flight from Egypt to the US during that month.
Anticipating his arrival, I was anxious, feeling somewhat threatened by his "otherness." When he arrived, I scrutinized him and his luggage for signs of danger. But he looked like what he was: a tired, nervous young traveler.
A doctoral student, he came to the United States to study, and study he has. We connect through his seriousness about his work. I survived a doctoral program and am familiar with the sacrifices they require. I understand Abdul's devotion to study; it's his "jihad." He's dedicated to learning with all the energy and single-mindedness he can muster. For him, study is an act of worship, a God-given mission, "jihad" in its larger sense.
Once we got past his distinctly foreign pungency, Abdul's living with us grew surprisingly easy. His ready laugh smooths points of friction. He helps with household chores, and thus we learn that he's prohibited from carrying trash containing even an emptied wine bottle. The knowledge startles us (and others whom we tell), and illuminates the religious tenets he carefully observes.
Abdul is soon to marry – he's returning to Egypt to do so – and all year long has courted his betrothed back in Cairo via Internet phone. Despite the oceanic gap, his relationship with this young woman flourishes.
During Ramadan, Abdul prays five times a day and fasts – eating and drinking only during the hours of darkness. Throughout the holy month, I woke in the predawn hours to the rich aromas of eggs frying and beans simmering. Abdul rose, ate, and then returned to bed.
Whenever possible, he prays with other Muslims, the call to prayer being a call to community. Once, we visited a local mosque, and my son joined him at prayer. As a woman I sat separately, my hair covered with a shawl. As a guest, I was allowed a privileged spot on the borderline between the men's and women's areas, a view of both sides. The ritual praying had a dancelike beauty: bodies close, chanting, bowing – a wave of devout motion.
Abdul's upcoming marriage prompts after-dinner conversations about marriage customs. I was bewildered when, one evening, he excitedly announced that his mother had told him that his fiancée has lovely hair.
Viewing his bride-to-be's hair, covered by the hijab, is off-limits to him until they are wed (and permanently off-limits to other men), but not to Abdul's mother and sisters. The women in Abdul's family have visited his future bride and return full of gossip and secret knowledge.
RSS feed
