No Way Out by Kate Elysia

Author:Kate Elysia
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ebury Publishing

Chapter 11

Islam

I was worried about writing this chapter. I felt anxious because I don’t know what you, the reader, will make of it. But I wanted to express how lovely the religion of Islam is, and how close it is, still, to my heart. I wanted to express how much it helped me and how special it is – about how passionate I was about it.

Being in such close proximity to Muslim men, I couldn’t help but come into contact with their religion; even if some of those men weren’t Muslim in the true sense of the word; even if the rapists were chauvinists who believed white girls were some kind of sub-human species.

When I first went to university, I learned a bit about Islam from the Jordanians in my halls of residence, and I became intrigued and wanted to know more. Maybe the cure for my abuse lay in the Qur’an: maybe if I understood these people a bit better, I could stop what was happening to me. Maybe there was something I was missing, something I should know about. Maybe by understanding Islam, I could understand myself.

I noticed my abusers never spoke about their religion in front of me. When I tried to ask about it, because I’m a naturally curious person, they always got angry and told me to shut up. I found out later that all Muslims have the responsibility of da’wah, which means to spread awareness of the message of Islam so, by ignoring my questions, these men were actually doing wrong in the eyes of Allah. I came to realise they weren’t true Muslims; they were just going through the motions, just like some Christians aren’t really ‘Christian’ at all.

I’d asked Asif about it lots of times, but he always ignored me – like I wasn’t fit to be talking about his religion. Finally, one day after I’d asked him again, he turned to me abruptly, a frown on his face.

‘Why do you keep asking about Islam?’

‘Because I want to know.’

‘All right, there are five pillars – shahadah, prayer, charity, fasting and hajj.’

Shahadah was the Muslim Testimony of Faith, and hajj was the pilgrimage to Mecca.

‘What else?’

‘That’s all.’

He shut up, and I realised he didn’t want me to know because knowing would make me human in his eyes, and reduce his power over me.

One day I was walking along the street and it was like I was looking down on myself from high up somewhere. It seemed as if something was trying to tell me I needed more in my life, something outside myself, not inside me like the demon. It was saying I needed spirituality, but not the kind I was used to. I knew nothing about Islam, but Ramadan was coming up. I knew from previous experience the men who were abusing me would stop for that month. They’d go to get all their sins forgiven, and that annoyed me – how could their sins be forgiven, but not mine? It was like they could be all holier than thou, while I sank, carrying the weight of their crimes.

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