You're Not Proper (9 page)

Karen didn't answer. As the prayers were about to finish, Laila and I left.

The room in which we read the Quran has long, stained glass windows that curve around the side of the building. We squat on the floor beneath the windows, leaning against the wall, with the Holy Quran in front of us. Girls and children sit in this room. Older boys read next door, in another room like this. I have read the Holy Quran three times and I am on my way to memorising the third
spirah
.
Insha'Allah
, god willing, I am going to learn the holy book by heart.

Once a week I teach younger children how to read the Holy Quran. Laila had gone to the bathroom and I was laying out stands for the children's
Qaida
s when my Dad came in and said to me, ‘Someone new is joining today.'

I looked up and put my hand to my mouth. I just managed to stop a squeal turning into a loud ‘
OMG
.' Karen was standing next to him. Dad looked at me accusingly. I wanted to stand up and say, ‘Dad she's not my friend. I hate her. I had nothing to do with her coming here.' He adjusted the white-laced prayer cap on his head and left, tapping a small cane in his hand, which he always carried in class.

I looked at Karen and thought, you're not getting away with whatever you're up to, I'll get you! She turned her face away from me, looked up at the windows, then down towards the row of stands, and then towards the storeroom in the corner. She had the same headscarf on as she did when she came to school in her miniskirt, but today she was wearing a white-coloured, full-sleeved top with loose-fitting, black trousers.

Laila came back, and I said to her, ‘Look what the cat brought in.'

‘Hi, Karen,' Laila said, stepping into the room past her.

Karen nodded, and said, ‘It's Kiran.' She locked her hands in front of her and tapped her right foot.

Laila smiled, tapped her own head, and said a bit louder, ‘Hi Kiran.' I was upset with Laila for putting me down in front of Karen, and said, ‘You will always be Karen to me.'

I wanted to smack Karen right there, on her nose, and throw her out of the mosque.

‘Where do you think you are, in a disco?' I said to her, nodding towards her foot.

She looked down at the ground and started tapping her right foot. ‘Come on in Kiran…'

I gave Laila such a stiff stare she stopped mid-sentence, but then she looked away from me and said, ‘I'll teach you today.'

‘You've only been here a minute, Karen,' I thought, ‘and you've already taken my friend from me.'

‘It's my class and I'll teach
her,
' I said to Laila. Turning to Karen, I pointed to the far side of the room, and said, ‘Over there, with the babies.'

As Karen went over to where I had told her to sit, the children came running noisily up the stairs and went to their places. Laila placed a
siparah
in front of her. Kiran sat down and crossed her legs. ‘Start your
sabaq
, your lesson,' I said to the class, and the room burst into the beautiful sound of Arabic from the mouths of the children.

‘Keep still, Karen!' I said, sitting down in front of her.

She looked round the room, but didn't say anything back to me. ‘Open the
Qaida
,' I said.

She did, and before I had given her the first lesson, she started reading, ‘
Alif zabr Aa - Alif Zair Ae; Bey zabr Ba…
'

‘Stop! Stop! Stop!' I shouted.

Everyone in the room went silent. Some of the children giggled. Turning to the kids, I asked, ‘Who told you lot to stop?'

They burst into rhythmic recitations again. Seeing my Dad standing at the door, the children increased their volume.

Pointing to the letters in front of Karen, I said to her, ‘That's not proper,
Karen
. It's
Aa
,
Ba
…'

‘That's not how my Dad taught me,' Karen said.

‘What's that rubbish collector know? ‘I whispered to her, ‘He's just trash.'

‘Don't insult my Dad,' Karen said, grinding her teeth. ‘Trash! Trash! Trash!' I taunted.

My Dad came up to us. I moved back a little. He held the cane in his hand behind his back. He asked, ‘How's Lucky Saab's daughter getting on in her first
sabaq
?'

‘She refuses to learn the proper way to pronounce the Arabic letters,' I said,….'

…‘Pindu villagers,' Dad said to himself, ‘And England did nothing for them. ‘That's how my Dad taught me, sir,' Karen whimpered.

‘Imam Lucky Saab did, did he?' Dad laughed. ‘Dad, you're proper, brilliant,' I thought.

The children lowered their voices. Dad looked around the room and they started reciting loudly again.

‘My granddad once taught me like this,' Karen said.

‘Yes', I thought to myself, clenching my fist, ‘go on, say more,
Karen
.'

Dad brought the cane out into his right hand. The children recited even louder. ‘Go on, Dad', I thought, ‘smack her one.' Dad pushed the cane towards Karen's chest. He moved the cane around her chest and slowly took it up to her chin, forcing her to lift her head up. He said, ‘I know that
kafir
very well…'

I caught a glimpse of Laila. With her hand in front of her mouth, she was staring at Dad, shaking her head.

‘Don't you call my granddad a
kafir
!' Karen shouted and jumped up. She was crying.

The children stopped. Dad stepped back from her. She lowered her head and ran out of the room. Laila went after her.

Laila walked out with me. We went quickly down the bare wooden stairs, the noise of the children reciting their lessons fading slowly away, into the echoes of our feet. I felt so angry with myself for going to the mosque and for not pushing the cane away. I felt dirty inside.

It felt as if the walls of the mosque were caving in on me. Someone laughed somewhere. It bounced around me. Laila tried to hold my hand. I snatched it away.

‘It was disgusting what he did with the cane,' Laila said, ‘disgusting.' I cringed. A shiver ran down my spine.

‘I'm alright, you know,' I said to Laila, barging out of the doors of the mosque. Stepping into a gusty wind, I said, ‘You don't have to come with me.' Patchy, dark clouds were blotting out the sun. There was a slight chill in the air.

‘You're so brave you know, and I never did thank you for standing up for me the other day.'

‘I didn't,' I said, ‘I just hate Donna.'

Laila pressed on my hand, and we walked on. Dad was leaning against the wall at the bottom of the steps, glued to his mobile, oblivious to the litter flying around him. Clenching his fist, smiling, frowning. He had an earphone in his ear, which was plugged into the mobile.

When I got close to him, I pulled the earphone out of the mobile. He was listening to a football match commentary. He looked at me in disbelief. His unshaven face twitched. It was like seeing the face of a little boy who'd had his candy snatched from him.

Laila looked at me and we burst out laughing.

‘What's so funny?' Dad asked. ‘It's a girly thing, Uncle,' Laila said.

We laughed more. And then I gave Laila a big hug and burst into tears.

‘What's the matter, Kiran?' Dad asked.

Getting myself together, I pulled away from Laila, wiped my face with the corner of the hijab, and said to Dad, ‘Like Laila said, Dad.'

We burst out laughing again. Dad plugged his earphone back. A moment or so later he pulled it out and threw it on the ground, then bent down, picked it up and put it in his pocket, saying, ‘I can't believe it. I just can't.'

‘He always says this when Man U lose,' I whispered into Laila's ears, ‘He's going to clench his fist and say exactly the same thing again.'

He did.

When he calmed down, I pointed back to the mosque, and asked, ‘What were you doing in there, Dad?'

‘Praying, of course.'

‘What was that with the fist?' He leaned closer to us, lowered his voice, shrugged his shoulders like a child, and said, ‘I'd set the mobile to receive a message when Man U scored. How was I to know we would lose 6–1 to City? I can't believe it, I just can't!'

‘Dad, you're terrible!' I said.

‘I didn't mean to raise my fist,' Dad blushed. Well, the closest to blushing I have ever seen him. ‘I felt really silly when everyone else went into
sajda.
'

‘Didn't anyone say anything to you, Dad?'

‘When praying, we are meant to be so deep in prayer, we're supposed forget about the world around us,' Laila answered.

Dad nodded, sheepishly.

‘Your builder's bottom was showing, Dad.'

‘Maybe Uncle, you could get braces like some of the old men,' Laila said, with a giggle.

‘Hey, less of the
old
, young lady!' Dad said, pushing himself off the step. ‘I'm not coming back here again, Dad.'

‘You mean the Almighty got a free prayer out of me,' Dad smirked.

‘Uncle, you're unbelievable!' Laila said. Just then, the sun came out.

Laila put her arms around me, and said, ‘You can come with me and learn.'

‘Dad, you go home and I'll stay with Laila for a bit.'

Dad was clearly relieved. He put his hand in his pocket, pulled out a five-pound note, and said handing it to me, ‘Don't be late.' ‘I won't,' I said.

As he turned around to leave, Laila said, ‘You can come along to the lessons as well, Uncle.'

He waved his hand dismissively in the air and walked on.

We crossed the road and as we stepped onto the pavement, Laila pulled her headscarf off, and shook her head. She had shoulder-length, sharply cut hair. A green ribbon was tied across her forehead. Her star-shaped, silver earrings flickered in the bright sunlight.

‘What are you doing?' I asked.

Folding the headscarf into a small ball, she said, ‘Sometimes I feel like being covered, sometimes I don't. Right now I don't.' She put the headscarf into her pocket, and said, ‘You can take yours off if you like.'

‘No, I feel better with it on,' I said.

‘I know what you mean,' Laila said. After looking round to see if anyone was watching, she adjusted her bra, and said, ‘Sometimes when I wear my hijab, I make them stick out.'

Pointing to my chest, I laughed, ‘Not much I can do with these.' ‘Men can't keep their eyes off women in hijabs,' Laila said, ‘especially
goray,
you know.' We stopped talking as a Boarhead Operational Services road-cleaning van went past us, its brushes sweeping up everything from the sides of the road. When its noise faded, I told Laila how, when I'd been little, Dad told me he worked for the local council. I was so proud of him. I thought he had the most important job in the world. He told me he worked for Operational Services, which made sure that everything was kept clean so that there were no diseases like the plague. Then when he got promoted, he told me he was now like a pilot of a plane. When I got older, I realised that he was really a dustbin man. And now he drives the big collection truck. And he loves being called Lucky. Laila and I laughed and laughed till our sides ached.

‘I feel like you're me best friend,' I said after we got our breath back, ‘and I hardly know you.'

‘Me Mum and Dad got married and hadn't seen each before that,' Laila said.

We broke into laughter. When we stopped again, Laila sucked her teeth and said, ‘Shamshad told me she hates you ‘cause she says you're half-caste. ‘Did she really say “half-caste”?'

‘And she hates you for leaving Islam…' ‘But I am trying now, aren't I, Laila?'

‘She's just a messed-up kid. But tell me, what's it with your family and Shamshad's?'

I thought about it and tried to work it out so it would make sense, ‘I don't know where to start.'

‘Just say it,' Laila said.

I took a deep breath and said, ‘Well, my Dad's family and her Dad's family hate each other.'

‘Well, who doesn't know that,' Laila said. ‘I heard your Dad and her Dad were once best mates.'

‘I heard that too, but it's one of those things we don't talk about at home. You know how Mums and Dads can be when they don't want you to talk about something…'

‘I know what you mean, in my house', Laila interrupted, ‘if we're watching telly and someone kisses on the screen, everyone looks away and the men start talking about cars and the women about cooking. And as soon as the kissing stops, they start watching again and pretend as though nothing happened.'

‘Seriously though', I continued, ‘I don't really know what happened between our families, but I think someone from their side in Pakistan fancied someone from our side. Their someone got engaged to someone from our side against everyone's wishes, and our someone charged in on the wedding night and took away their someone. There was a shootout, like, and people got killed.'

‘Oh my god,' Laila said.

‘It gets worse,' I said, ‘You know Shamshad's lot have a lot of their clan here.'

Laila nodded.

‘Well that wedding thing happened yonks ago…'

Laila interrupted me, ‘But here's here and there's there, and it was a long time back so what's it with all the agro' between your families now?' ‘Well, things never let up back there and a few years ago, I'm not sure exactly what happened but someone from Shamshad's side there and three of her cousins from here went and killed someone from our side.'

‘It was on the news here, wasn't it?!' Laila exclaimed, ‘I didn't know it was your lot.'

‘So you know why she hates me, then,' I said. ‘Bet your lot aren't as bad as ours.'

‘Our lot, if they have a big meal together, can't digest it without a good scrap afterwards,' Laila said.