Once Upon an Eid

by S.K. Ali

I just want Hawa to be proud of all the parts of who she is.” Mom looked hard at me. “You are Black American and Mandinka. Both are strong cultures. Love all of you, Hawa.”

“Hussain sent me a message that it was Eid,” she said. “And I have some good news,” she added, smiling from ear to ear. “I heard from the main office in Athens.” “Really?” gulped Bassem. “They are reviewing your papers to go to Germany,” she said. “We’re going to Germany?” gasped Bassem. “Don’t get too excited so quickly,” she advised. “There’s still a lot to do, but it’s a start.” Unbidden, Babba’s voice echoed in his mind. Always look beyond what your eyes initially recognize and discover what is real, what is possible, and what is the truth. Perhaps God hadn’t forgotten them after all. Hope filled Bassem’s heart, and his eyes refocused, his sight suddenly flooded by the sky, a shimmering azure streaked with cobalt and hints of navy blue and ultramarine.

When It happened, I lost my sense of taste. I swear. I don’t know how. But it was as if each bud was switched off, the way my abah switches off the lights in his store at the end of the day— one by one by one by one— and with each flick of a switch, I lost another flavor: Flick—sweet. Flick—sour. Flick—salty. And on and on until nothing was left but a darkness that weighed down my tongue and made the food stick in my throat like glue. I didn’t tell. Well, you can’t, can you? Not when you have a little brother to take care of and your father’s eyes grow squinty and worried, the lines around the edges deepening when he stares at you pushing food around your plate as if that fools anybody.

Aya had always liked her status as her school’s only. Being the only Muslim and the only Iraqi made her the authority when anything came up in class remotely related to Islam, Arabs, or hummus.

Aya tried to focus on following along in her textbook, but when the book described her sect, the Shias, as a radical group that broke away from mainstream Islam because they wanted the prophet Muhammad’s successor to descend from the family line, Aya grew increasingly uneasy. The word radical made it sound as if she belonged to the wrong side, but there was so much more to the story of her religion’s division. Every year, Shias all over the world commemorated the martyrdom of the prophet Muhammad’s grandson, and Aya knew it was that tragedy that had caused the eventual rift. However, she didn’t feel like she remembered enough about those events to discuss them with her class.

“I’m a Shia, but we’re not radicals,” Aya said, feeling immediately dissatisfied with her answer. She searched her mind for something more convincing to add, but this time Amanda’s closest friend, Samantha, chimed in to ask if Aya celebrated Christmas.

This was a sore spot for Aya. She knew that whatever celebrations her family had, they did not rival Amanda’s family’s elaborate Christmas. Aya’s parents rarely took the day off for Eid, and her family didn’t really belong to a Muslim community anymore. Their small agricultural town only had a handful of other Muslims. They all used to take turns praying in each other’s houses, but a few years ago, when it was Aya’s parents’ turn to host the weekly prayers, her father had overheard someone remark that Shias weren’t real Muslims. Her parents had taken this as a hint that they weren’t welcome, and they’d stopped going, too uncomfortable to tell anyone why.

“We do get presents, and we wear all new clothes and go to a prayer in the morning. And then after that there’s usually a carnival with food and games.”

Amanda said, “We read in class that Aya is a radical, but she says she’s not.” Aya was too stunned to react. She searched for words, but before she could say anything, Hana said, “Because she’s not. We’re all Muslims, and that’s all that matters.”

“But seriously,” Hana added, “you must be the only Muslim they’ve ever met. In my old school there were at least thirty Muslim kids, and some were Shia, so don’t worry. I know you’re not a radical. I don’t know how you’ve survived alone all this time. Alhamdulillah, we have each other, right?”