The Go-Between by Osman Yousefzada

Author:Osman Yousefzada [Yousefzada, Osman]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Canongate Books
Published: 2021-12-13T00:00:00+00:00

14

THE HARLOT AND THE HOUSE OF GOD

JAMEELA, THE MOST BEAUTIFUL LADY of the night, began to feature frequently in my life as I was growing into my virtuous phase. I’d often bump into her when rushing to the mosque, and she had begun to greet me differently.

‘Come and see me when you get older and I will make your hat fly … right off your head,’ she told me.

I wasn’t quite sure why my hat would fly off, but I’d always get a warm glow seeing her at the bottom of the road. At other times she would ask me to run to the shops while she stood with the others on the corner.

‘Hey, love, get us some fags and I’ll give you 10p.’

She was vivacious and pin-sharp. But prostitutes were supposed to be evil, so she was something of a conundrum for me.

I made my way to the mosque one day, trying to banish all thoughts of Jameela as I walked under the holy scriptures inscribed above the door on the transom windows. It was the calligraphy of God. As required, I took off my shoes, and headed downstairs to the basement to do my ablutions. The front and back sitting rooms on the ground floor were the school rooms, the madrassas, each with low benches facing each other. Korans were stacked in the coves on either side of the chimney. The faithful gifted Korans to the mosque, so God’s word could be continually read in their name. You could never have your back to the Koran, that was a sin. It should always face you.

We students bought our own, in colourful covers that those mothers or sisters who could sew had made for us; in lamé, in brocade, in hand-embroidered fabrics, in patterned cottons. Nothing was too precious to cover this book. I was lucky to have Mum. The shelves in these coves held each edition of the Book of Truth, covered in a mosaic of many beautifully coloured off-cuts, stacked, swaddled and wrapped on top of one another.

After ablutions you would unwrap your Koran, rest it on those low benches, and sit on the floor as you learned how to read from right to left. These sacred scriptures learned by heart, rocking back and forth, were words that you didn’t understand, as they weren’t of your language, but you knew you were uttering God’s ancient words.

We were lucky: our mosque, a converted house, was situated perfectly in the direction of Mecca – but this was potluck. Rented houses had been converted into mosques as the Muslim population grew. Some of these were eventually purchased when enough of the faithful had put their hands deep into their pockets. Enabling a House of God to be erected on earth would be rewarded plenty in the hereafter: in exchange, God would make you a house of gold and silver bricks, encrusted in corals and rubies. Giving to the House of God was on an entirely different level – there was keeping up with the Joneses and there was preparing for your final resting place in the hereafter.

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