Not Easily Washed Away: Memoirs of a Muslim's Daughter by Levene Brian Arthur & Beauty Anon

Author:Levene, Brian Arthur & Beauty, Anon [Beauty, Anon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Child Abuse, Ethnic, Child Sexual Abuse, Family & Relationships, Incest, Dysfunctional Family, Muslim Women, nonfiction, Self-Help, Memoir, Biography, Islam
ISBN: ISBN139780983333012
Publisher: Gully Gods Publishing
Published: 2011-03-11T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Psychological Warfare

Deborah’s home would become my new hell. She played ping-pong and other computer games or watched television with her friends while I tried to sleep. Sitting on the couch, I took off the extra clothes I had worn for almost two days, while my father went outside to smoke. I realized that this house was under the control of one “man:” Deborah. My father had smoked in our house in Pakistan since I was a child, but he didn’t dare to do so in this house. He could not even leave the toilet seat up there. I used Deborah’s strictness to my advantage, and when he came that night for what he wanted from me, I yelled, “That woman is not going to let you do that in her house,” as he hovered over my body like a wolf smelling meat. I meant business. I called her name as loudly as I could, while he tried to put his hands over my mouth.

“What are you trying to do?” he whispered. “You can’t do that here. I bring you to America, and this is what you do to me? You will pay for this.” As he walked away, I shouted, “Try doing what you did in Pakistan, and I will call the cops. I watch American TV. I know how it is here.” Once I’d set foot on American soil, I felt a new confidence. I swore my life was going to change.

Not long after, my mother called to make sure I had arrived safely. Deborah answered and brought me the phone. “Yes, Ammi, I am here,” I said.

“Okay, okay, I’ll let you sleep. I just wanted to see if you got there safely,” she said.

I handed the phone back to Deborah, who was visibly upset that my mother had called. I did not sleep much because I was filled with pride that I had stood up to my father. I was elated for days to come. I started to watch television after he left and went into the kitchen to see what the fridge had to offer. I was amazed by the plethora of unhealthy food choices. I ate everything I saw, became colicky, and had to use Nida’s trick to regurgitate food. At first, I tried the many fruits I hadn’t seen since leaving Saudi Arabia, including two different types of apples and peaches. Then I ate three types of ice cream along with left-over biryani. I gained twenty-five pounds within two months after arriving in Selah, Washington.

As I expected, anything my father cooked up was one big pot of filth for me. I did nothing but clean Deborah’s house, as she made it clear I was going to be her personal maid from a third-world country. Deborah’s expectations quickly became my new nightmare. She also bossed my father around.

“Can you make me some tea, walk Brandy, and make sure dinner is ready when I get home? That’s the least you can do after all I am doing for your family,” she told him, always expecting whatever she asked to be done promptly.

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