As I rest my head in my hands I wonder where it all began, was it my fault she had turned like this? why didnt I choose Islam earlier so she hadnt already been used to the bad world out there? First it was the ripping off of her hijab, the change in schools and now the hair colour, is this what I had done to my own mother? I was given no respect and it wasnt just me, I could see how this was affecting her father too as he sat across the table from me massaging his temper to try to calm himself.
I lean towards him, push my hand to the middle of the table in some sort of comfort, he places his hand ontop of mine, holds it gently and says so quietly that I have to strain my ears to hear his words 'what more can we do?' I pray that we dont give up on Zara because I know how it feels to be lost in this world without a faith, I had been through that and I believed that taking Islam as my own was a gift I was giving to my children from my creator. I only prayed that she saw this before it was too late.
Yusuf stood up from the chair and moved to the window, he placed the kettle on the stove just as Hawa walked through the door and at that instance my mind ran away from me imagining how this would affect her. Would we have to go through the same thing? she sat on my knee tired after running from her friends house down the road. She was only 2 years younger than Zara but never really remembered not being around Islam as much as Zara, she had followed her father around more when she was a child so was exposed in that way. She had been wearing hijab for 2 years now, was in the same Islamic school as Zara had been but showed no signs from changing things as her sister had.
In hind sight, we should have known problems were coming, it was only a matter of time. As I sat with her on my knee I hugged her so tightly I thought I would never let go until she fidgeted and told me 'Mum, i have to go. Me and asma are learning a new surah so I have to go sort it out.' I nodded as I let her go and just as she walked out the door I wiped a single tear off my cheek. As if reading my mind my husband walked past me, kissed me softly on the head and told me 'she will be ok, insha'allah' Insha'allah I reminded myself