… my father.

My smally dolly …

• is talking a lot more… she says, “Alhambali-eelah” (Alhamdulillah), “Alaa-may-koom” (As salaamu `alaykum) and “Jallah `ayran!” (JazakAllah khayran)
• is quite the drama mama … after a bit of tickles and rough and tumble, she flopped down on the bed and declared melodramatically “Aaaahhh! Tiiired!”
• speaks more Urdu and Punjabi than English - she is her Dada’s little girl all right!
• is deliciously lovable - she gives generously squishy, squidgy good morning hugs to her big sister without fail
• is altogether too cuddly for my own good!

Alhamdulillah…

Love you muchly, Bear!

“A book is a garden, an orchard, a storehouse, a party, a company by the way, a counselor, a multitude of counselors.”
- Henry Ward Beecher

Here is a conversation that warmed my heart. Gave me a good chuckle, it did! It took place between Ms M and her grandmother. They had gone to visit a friend who lived at my old neighbourhood and since it was quite a distance away, my mum decided to take a taxi home. She decided to tease Ms M a little…

Jiddah (pretending to grumble): Hmph… you know it’s all because of you that I have to spend so much money today.

Ms M: How come?

Jiddah: Well you see, normally I would take a bus or train, but you said you were tired so here we are in the taxi. It’s a lot more expensive by cab you know.

Ms M (somewhat apologetically): Yes, I know.

Jiddah: Didn’t Aunty give you a prezzie just now? She gave you $10, didn’t she?

Ms M: Yes… (long pause) … oh! Do you mean *I* have to pay the taxi fare?

Jiddah: And why not?

Ms M: But Jiddah… I HAVE to save my money…

Jiddah: Whatever for?

Ms M: I HAVE to save so I can buy BOOKS for MY CHILDREN!

I know … this is meant to be a homeschooling blog but the Lesson Ideas and Story Station sections show precious little entries.

I’ll post some lesson plans on butterflies next in shaa Allah but I will confess. The reason why I stopped posting for a while was because I felt like a fraud. What I mean to say is that I do still firmly believe that for us, homeschooling is THE road to take. My methods were another story altogether *S* Ms Muffet was (and still is) doing alright alhamdulillah but I began to crumble. I had a list of goals to achieve and wanted to do everything *just so* but this is not always possible when one has a little baby to care for at the same time. I was getting overly anxious - will I ever get the Singaporean out of me? (You’d have to live there to know what I am talking about *S*)

The beauty of home education is that it is flexible. I don’t mean to say that a parent can put in next to zero effort, let a child run willy nilly and then say that homeschooling is flexible. I mean that education is not just about and through books. There is more to a child/person than that. While I was fussing about lessons still undone, my daughter was doing some learning of her own. She learnt to help her busy mum, to share unreservedly, to give way to her little sister without resentment and to be independent.

Sometimes lessons are best learnt when you put the books aside and speak straight from the heart. Some you can’t TEACH - they can only be learnt through plain and simple LIVING.

A sister told me to relax and to breathe… another told me to just love my child and place trust in Allah .

They are right *S* There is so much room for improvement where I am concerned. So we will try to do better each day but we are doing OK alhamdulillah…

A sister I know is expecting a second child. An ultrasound showed that the baby looked fine alhamdulillah and that in shaa Allah, she could look forward to another baby girl. The sister praised Allah and was overjoyed that no complications had been detected or were expected. She knew her husband too would be all smiles about the news.

When she left the ultrasound room, the sister headed for her mother and her first-born daughter who had accompanied her to the hospital. Her mother eagerly asked about the baby’s gender and when told, looked visibly disappointed. “Oh… another girl? Your husband will be quite disappointed. It would have been nice to have a boy this time, don’t you think?”

Her little 3-year-old on, the other hand, beamed and grinned quite excitedly when told that she would in shaa Allah have a baby sister. When asked if she knew of a name, she nodded and said gleefully, “We shall name her Khadija in shaa Allah…”

I have been thinking about the mother’s reaction and how she almost spoilt the joy of the sister.

If I could, I would tell her that her to emulate her 3-year-old grand-daughter who showed instant appreciation for Allah’s blessings.

If I could, I would tell her that daughters are gems.

If I could, I would tell her these ahadeeth from the Messenger of Allah s, which testify to the noble status of daughters…

`A’ishah radhiallahu `anha said: A woman came to me with her two daughters and asked me (for charity). She found that I had nothing except for a single date, which I gave to her. She took it and divided it between her two daughters, and did not eat any of it herself, then she got up and left with her daughters. The Prophet came in and I told him what had happened. He sallallahu `alayhi wa sallam said, “Whoever is tested with daughters and treats them well, they will be for him a shield against the Fire of Hell.” (Bukhari & Muslim)

According to another report narrated by Muslim from `A’ishah radhiallahu `anha, she said: A poor woman came to me carrying her two daughters. I gave her three dates to eat. She gave each child a date, and raised the third to her own mouth to eat it. Her daughters asked her to give it to them, so she split the date that she had wanted to eat between them. I was impressed by what she had done, and told the Messenger of Allah about it. He said, “Allah subhanahu wa ta`ala has decreed Paradise for her because of it,” or, “He has saved her from Hell because of it.”

Abu Hurayrah radhiallahu `anhu reported that the Prophet said: “Whoever has three daughters, and shelters them, bearing their joys and sorrows with patience, Allah subhanahu wa ta`ala will admit him to Paradise by virtue of his compassion towards them.” A man asked, “What if he has only two, O Messenger of Allah?” He said, “Even if they are only two.” Another man asked, “What if he has only one, O Messenger of Allah?” He said, “Even if he has only one.” (Ahmad)

Ibn `Abbas radhiallahu `anhu said: The Messenger of Allah said: “Whoever had a daughter born to him, and he did not bury her alive or humiliate her, and he did not prefer his son over her, Allah subhanahu wa ta`ala will admit him to Paradise because of her.” (al-Hakim)

Abu Sa`id al-Khudri radhiallahu `anhu said: “The Prophet said: `There is no-one who has three daughters, or three sisters, and he treats them well, but Allah subhanahu wa ta`ala will admit him to Paradise.” (Bukhari)

The Prophet said: “There is no one among my ummah who has three daughters, or three sisters, and he supports them until they are grown up, but he will be with me in Paradise like this…” and he held up his index and middle fingers together. (At-Tabarani)

I read these ahadeeth yesterday and truly, they shamed me. How many times have I been in a hurry to complete my chores and placed my child last on my list of priorities? How many times have I forgotten to just STOP and BE THERE for my child?

Well, now is always a good time to change. Must go and colour some pictures with Ms Muffet!

And hey, give your kids a hug and kiss… just because, you hear?

• Anas radhiallahu `anhu said: “I have never seen a man more kind with children than the Prophet .” (Muslim) Anas also said: “The Prophet had the sharpest sense of humor with children.”
• The Prophet exhorted justice when he said: “Allah likes that you be just with your children as He likes that you be just among your own selves.” (Al-Daraqutni)
• It was reported from ‘A’ishah that the Prophet kissed Al-Hassan and Al-Hussain, the sons of ‘Ali radhiallahu `anhu while Al-Aqra’ bin Habis Al-Taimi was in his audience. Al-Aqra’ said: “I have ten children, none of whom I have ever kissed.” The Prophet looked at him and said: “Those who do not show mercy to others will not be shown mercy.”
• ‘A’ishah radhiallahu `anha narrated: A Bedouin came to the Messenger of Allah and said: “You kiss your children, while we do not kiss them.” The Messenger of Allah said: “I can not help that Allah has removed mercy from your heart.”
• It was reported by At-Tirmidhi and others on the authority of ‘Abdullah bin Buraidah from his father (radhiallahu `anhuma) who said: I saw the Messenger of Allah while he was delivering a sermon. Al-Hassan and Al-Hussain radhiallahu `anhuma came wearing red garments and stumbling while walking. The Prophet descended Al Minbar (the pulpit) and carried them and put them in front of him. He then said: “Your property and children are only a trial. I saw these two boys stumbling in their walk and could not help stopping my sermon and raising them.”
• Al-Nasa’i and Al-Hakim narrated: While the Prophet was leading people in Prayer, Al-Hussain came and rode on his neck while he was prostrating himself. The Prophet prolonged prostration, until they (the worshipers) thought there was something wrong. When Prayer finished, the people said: “You prolonged prostration, O Messenger of Allah, until we thought that there was something wrong with you.” He replied: “My son rode on me i.e. rode on my back, and I disliked to disturb him until he satisfies himself (and gets down).”
• It was narrated in Al-Isabaah that “the Prophet was of the habit of playing with Al-Hassan and Al-Hussain radhiallahu `anhuma, walking on his hands and knees while they both clung to him from both sides, and saying to them: “What a good camel you have and what a good camel-riders you are.”
• It was narrated in Bukhari and Muslim after Anas radhiallahu `anhu that the Prophet said: “I enter into Prayer intending to prolong it, but when I hear a baby crying, I shorten it, as I know how his mother is anxious about his crying.”

I confess, I am not a library person. I like OWNING books and reading them over and over again.

My father encouraged my siblings and I to read … and we read voraciously. When our hobby became an extremely expensive one, he didn’t turn to the library to feed our appetite for reading. He took us to a quaint second-hand bookstore in a quiet housing estate in Singapore called Serangoon. It was a small outfit with wall-to-wall and floor-to-ceiling book shelves. The owner set up his well-worn desk outside where several baskets filled with even more used books and magazines were placed. I loved trips to that store.

When my daughter was born, I used to get completely stressed out, worrying about how to entertain her. Motherhood did not come naturally to me - I had to grow into it and I confess, it took a while before I felt comfortable with being a mother. There were days when I was at a complete loss - Itsy Bitsy Spider had been done to death so what was there to do for the remaining 8 hours till her dad came home? I was (am?) a bookworm who didn’t like dealing with people, what more babies, so… I did what I did best.

I read.

Ms Muffet must have been about a month and a half when I read to her “No David!” by David Shannon. It just about blew me away when she paid attention so I kept reading. I joined book clubs and when we left the USA for Singapore, I kept the supply up. I had worried that living in Pakistan would mean fewer books for Ms Muffet - she was used to getting some 15 to 20 new books a month.

But, alhamdulillah, I was delighted to find second-hand bookstores galore. I’ve been able to get a wide variety of books for Ms Muffet, from fiction to science to geography at a fraction of their normal prices.

My daughter is an avid reader, ma shaa Allah, and trips to the bookstores have been frequent so these days, I can’t help but think about my late father. I remember how he would look on indulgently as we rummaged for our favourite reads.

I remember how it was he who planted and nurtured my passion for books.

I am glad I am passing it on.

As salaamu `alaykum wa rahmatullahi wa barakatuh

Dear Shameel and Nuur…

It was very hard for me to go to your home last Monday. I had not met your mother in a long while… The last time I did, you were just a baby, Shameel. Nuur, you had not even been born yet. It wasn’t that your mother and I had quarrelled or anything of the sort - we had been good friends in junior college and university. I don’t know why we didn’t try to stay in touch… I guess I will just have to use the same reason which everyone else uses and which I am sure you find difficult to understand - we just got busy.

I did not manage to talk to you the other day - there were just too many people around. I don’t think that you were up for any conversation anyway. I just want you both to know that I am very sorry about your father’s passing. It was a big shock to me and I am sure that you are still trying to come to terms with it.

When I saw you crying as you left your father, it brought back memories of when my father passed away about a year ago. I never thought that anything could hurt so much and I was sure that I would never get over it. That is not entirely true, though. You don’t get over it – how can you ever forget someone you love? You can’t… but the pain does ease with time and you learn to think about the warm and wonderful memories you had.

You know, it is OK to feel sad and it is OK to cry. The Prophet, sallallahu `alayhi wa sallam, wept on the death of his son, Ibrahim, and said: “The eyes shed tears and the heart feels pain, but we utter only what pleases our Lord. O Ibrahim! We are aggrieved at your demise.” So we cry but we also remember to have faith in Allah and what He has decreed.

You see, Shameel and Nuur, we think of our souls, families and wealth as “ours”. So when the things and people we love are gone, we feel sad. The truth is, they do not belong to us - they belong to Allah. He gave them to us as a loan. So we must be grateful while we have these blessings and be patient when He takes them back.

Remember that the Qur`an tells us that Allah is with those who are patient - “O you who believe! Seek Help in Patience and Salaah. Truly, Allah is with those that are patient.” [Qur’an 2:153]

Allah has not one but THREE big rewards for those who are patient - He has promised His prayer for them, His Mercy, and their guidance: Who, when afflicted with calamity say, “Truly, to Allah we belong and truly, to Him we shall return.” They are those on whom the Salawat (the blessing and forgiveness) of their Lord is upon them, and who shall receive His Mercy, and it is they who are the guided ones [Qur’an 2:157] Now, isn’t that wonderful? Allah sometimes tests us but He will always give us something better in return.

Shameel, you are now the man in your family. You need to take care of your mother and younger brother and sister. Nuur, you will need to be your mother’s partner and help her in every way you can. She will have a lot to deal with now and she will count on you doing your best in school and at home.

I know you will miss your father very much. I still think about my father too and sometimes I don’t want to because it hurts too much. I know that you and your father shared a very special relationship. It sounds funny when I say this but truthfully, it doesn’t have to end.

There is still so much you can do for your father. The Prophet sallallahu `alayhi wa sallam said: “When a person dies, all his deeds come to an end except three: sadaqah jaariyah (ongoing charity, e.g. a waqf or endowment), beneficial knowledge (which he has left behind), or a righteous child who will pray for him.”

Remember that YOU are sadaqah jariyah for your father – he will receive a share of the rewards for all the good that you do.

You must also always make du`aa for him because your prayers can help him enter Paradise. The Prophet sallallahu `alayhi wa sallam said: “A man’s status will be raised in Paradise and he will ask, ‘How did I get here?’ He will be told, ‘By your son’s du’aa’s (prayers) for forgiveness for you.”

My good friend Sadiqa shared some comforting words with me when my father passed away. I would like to now tell you the same thing that she told me. Don’t think of your father as “gone” or “lost”… this separation is temporary, just like everything in this world. Think of him as waiting for you in another room. On the day of Judgement, you will be reunited with him and inshaa Allah you will all walk into Jannah together.

Shameel and Nuur, please know that you are in my du`aa… May Allah keep you safe and well always ameen.

Much love
Aunty Iman

It was the eve of `Eid and the flat was still messy and dusty. I had just half an hour before Maryam’s bed time and I knew that I would nod off with her so I was desperate to make sure that the apartment was halfway decent before that. Inwardly reproaching myself for having left things at the last minute, I wiped, swept and mopped feverishly.

My two-year-old followed me around, rag and sponge in hand trying to be of some help. Our last stop was the kitchen. She likes it there and now that she is over the “Ummi, what is this?” phase, she often launches into the “Who bought this, Ummi?” mode. This time, though, the chat turned out to be a little different.

“Ummi, who bought this bin?” Maryam asked pointing to the white trash can next to the sink.

I turned briefly and told her, “Your Baba did… He bought it at Walmart in Wisconsin.” I smiled briefly, remembering that Maryam was born there. But there really was no time for walking down memory lane… I continued scouring the sink like there was no tomorrow.

“Ummi, who bought those bottles?” she piped up again, pointing at her milk bottles.

“I did… I bought them for you at Kiddy Palace, remember?” I said, thinking that I really was not in the mood for this conversation.

“Ummi, who bought that oven?” she said pointing to the large oven in the corner.

“Hmm… I don’t know Maryam. That belongs to the flat owner. We are just renting here, you know.” I really had too much to do.

“Ummi, who bought that small oven?” she asked unrelentingly, pointing to the small grill oven my mother had bought.

“Jiddah bought it for us… that big oven does not work…”

“Ummi…” I bit my tongue and stopped myself from telling her to hush. “Ummi, who bought that microwave oven?”

I stopped wiping and any annoyance I felt at her incessant questions faded away right then and there. My father had bought us the microwave oven when we set up house here in Singapore. It was going to be my second `Eid without him – he had died a couple of weeks short of the previous `Eid.

“Jid bought it, Maryam.” Strangely enough, the little livewire fell silent too.

When she did speak, she said earnestly, “I love Jid, Ummi.”

“I love him too.”

“I want to hug Jid.”

“Well, make du`aa OK… inshaa Allah we can all see and hug Jid in Jannah.”

“Ummi?”

“Yes, Maryam?”

“Where is Jannah?”

I dropped the rag and picked her up… What’s a bit of dust, really?

It will be Ramadhan soon inshaa Allah. This blessed month means a great deal to me and to every other Muslim - it is a month unlike any other. It is a time that is solely for `ibadah and for good deeds.

Ramadhan is also the month in which my father passed away. I still remember every detail of his final days and I remember spending my first `Eid without him.

You never forget the important people in your life… and you never stop loving them. My father was a devoted father and husband, always putting the family first. I used to tell him that he fussed too much… worried too much about us. I felt he needed to let go and not fret because we could take care of ourselves but I suppose he was just that kind of man.

When I was growing up, he pushed my siblings and I to work hard at school, sparing no expense and effort. He would buy us any study materials we needed and ferry us to and from tuition, twice a week no matter how busy or tired he was. When I started working, he would always drive me to the office. I often felt bad about this but my father would not have it any other way.

I gave birth to my daughter in September 2001 in the USA. It took three months before my husband was able to get a job transfer and we were able to return to Singapore for good. It was about 1 a.m. that January day when we reached my parents’ house. I saw as we pulled up the drive way that the porch and living room lights were on. The front door was open and my father was standing there, leaning on his cane. I rushed out of the car and took baby Maryam to him.

He smiled – I had never seen my father so happy. He just stared at his first and only grand-daughter and positively beamed. He could hardly speak… he later told me that he was so grateful that Allah had answered his prayers, for he had beseeched Him countless times to bring us back home. It was not easy returning to Singapore but seeing my father’s boundless joy, I knew it was worth it.

My father died less than a year later… to this day I thank Allah for giving us the means to return before it was too late. To this day, I thank Allah for giving me Maryam because I think she was my one and only real gift to my father.

Whenever my daughter and I visited him – which was often for I knew he loved her company – he would insist on driving us home. He would do this even when his body ached from the effects of the chemotherapy. He would drop us off at our block and we would wave at him as he pulled out of the parking lot before we made our way to our apartment.

This went on for several months until my father took a turn for the worse in October 2002. My father had gone back and forth to the hospital over the year and always returned home looking well on the road to recovery. Some of his friends used to jokingly remark, “Are you really sick? This is not the face of a sick man!” Mashaa Allah he always managed to look well… I guess he hid his pain well.

This time, Allah decreed that his admission to the hospital would be his last. He had had a third cycle of chemotherapy and a second bone marrow transplant but every effort the doctors made led to more complications. His kidneys began to fail and then his heart weakened so badly that he could hardly breathe without his body heaving painfully. His body could no longer take the beating of the illness and the drugs.

Word got round and friends and relatives rushed to see him. They had all just seen him a month earlier and were shocked and shaken to see how his condition had deteriorated. Many - grown men even – burst into tears upon seeing him. One said, “He was FINE last month… what have they done to him?”

One Friday in Ramadhan, the doctors told us that my father’s heart was just not doing its job. He was not getting enough oxygen and he needed to be put on a life support machine. They tried to be as kind as they could but we were really grasping at straws. Without the machine, he would surely die and with it, he had but a five percent chance of survival. We did what we thought he would have wanted – we went with the machine. Five percent was better than nothing.

We were all given a few minutes with him before they sedated him. Deep down inside, we must all have known that this was going to be the last time we would see him conscious. We asked the doctors to allow us to bring Maryam in to see him – children below 10 are not allowed into the Intensive Care Unit and she was barely over a year old.

We all stood around my father giving him words of comfort and encouragement, telling him not to be afraid… telling him all would be well. We brought Maryam in to see him and they held hands for the last time.

Then we had to go.

Saturday came and he showed no signs of improvement. After iftar at my mother’s house, my husband, brother and sister went back to the hospital. I had to go home to the flat to put Maryam to bed.

I had just finished giving her her bath when I received a call. My cousin told me that I had to be by my father… he was slipping. I dropped my daughter off at my mother’s house where the maid would watch her and, dry-eyed, made my way to the ICU.

I entered and saw a crowd of family and friends. When I went into my father’s room, I saw my sister, eyes red, sobbing uncontrollably as she tried to read from the Qur`an. My mother, calm and composed told me to read and to say shahadah in my father’s ear.

The minutes passed and I saw from the machine that my father’s heartbeat was decreasing, slowly but surely. I stepped back and looked at the people in the room – aunts, uncles, cousins and a few close friends… faces taut with grief.

Then I caught sight of a brother, Muhammad, whom my father cared about a great deal. It seemed as though he wanted to go to my father but could not as my aunts were close by. I gestured briefly at him and he nodded. I told my aunts to make way and then he took his place by my father.

He bent down and said the shahadah several times and then raised his voice, reciting Ayat ul Kursi. I remember thinking at that moment, “It is as if Abah will be going to sleep…” Brother Muhammad repeated the shahadah and then stepped back. It felt strangely calm.

I looked at the machine and I saw my father’s heartbeat falling… this time drastically… 48, 34, 28, 20…

I felt everyone stiffening. The air was thick with tension. I heard my sister catching her breath.

Then the line went flat. My father had passed away.

It took a while for it to sink in. It didn’t feel final, perhaps because we had matters to attend to. The men had to deal with the hospital and other arrangements and the women had to return home to prepare for the funeral the next morning.

Later that night, I had to go back to the flat as my daughter would only sleep in her crib. My uncle took the car and sent us home. Still dry-eyed, I took my seat. It was a quiet journey… what was there to say at a time like this?

Then we arrived at my block and said salaam. I got out of the car and stood by the car park, just as I used to when my father drove us home. As my uncle pulled away, he turned to us.

I waved at him and he waved back.

My heart went cold as the hurt came rushing in. It was then that it really hit me.

My father was never coming back.

Everyone is afflicted with tests at some point or another. Life goes on of course, but it is not quite the same when you have lost someone you love. There is the grief you do your best to keep locked away and there is the void that the memories don’t quite fill. Still, we all have to push along…

You may find that I talk an awful lot about my father… Well, truth be told, I think about him and miss him a great deal. He was a very good man, who loved his family and friends well, mashaa Allah.

Today, I remembered something that my mother told me about my father and it made me smile. So bear with me while I take you on another ‘ramble’. *S*

Islam places a great emphasis on good character. We are commanded to be honest in all our dealings and to be trustworthy as well. We are forbidden to consume wealth by means of falsehood and injustice and we must never ever get involved in haraam transactions like bribery, stealing and so on. “And eat up not one another’s property unjustly (in any illegal way, e.g. stealing, robbing, deceiving), nor give bribery to the rulers…” [al-Baqarah 2:188].

My father mashaa Allah was a man who believed in good old-fashioned solid values. He was a principled man who believed in doing his best in everything he pursued. He pushed us as children to do well in school and did everything he could to help us - he would ferry us for tuition twice a week, pay for any study materials we wanted and encourage us with pep talks every chance he got.

Once we started working, he often fussed at us about good work ethics. Whenever we were late for work, he could hardly contain his anxiety and disapproval. He saw work as a trust and often told us, “How would you feel if your employers were to cut your pay by $5 every month? You would not like it would you? Now tell me, is it fair that you are always late for work?”

My father started his career in the Ministry of Environment as a Public Health Inspector. He would conduct inspections in his sector and check that companies, especially hotels, restaurants and coffee shops maintained hygiene standards. Failure to maintain these standards would result in warnings, fines and suspension of business.

The food industry is a competitive one here, so many of these business owners feared the repercussions of a bad report. Some would try to bribe these officers at times - subtly or directly. They would offer cash, expensive wines and cognacs and even women!

My father, however, was scrupulous to a fault and always refused *S* Sometimes hotel managers would invite him to a meal before the inspections but he only accepted a glass of water. One particular restauranteur offered my father a pack of cigarettes but my father refused, saying he did not smoke. The man kept urging him and practically pressed the box into his hand. When my father kept insisting he did not smoke, the man leaned closer to him and hissed under his breath, “Its not cigarettes that are in the box!” Allah knows best how many bills he placed in the box - my father never found out.

My father always said that a moment’s indiscretion and greed could destroy a man and his family, so he never accepted nor gave any bribes. It was never worth it.

Now, Singapore has very strict laws - some would say draconian. The government takes a very harsh stance against corruption - any government officer found guilty would be sacked and lose his pension.

One day, the Corrupt Practices Investigation Bureau called my father in for an ‘interview’. He was naturally alarmed for he had no idea what the matter was. He knew that he had always been above board but feared that perhaps someone may have incriminated him out of spite.

He turned up at their headquarters and there, they told him that they had been watching him round the clock for close to 4 months. FOUR MONTHS, subHanAllah! They had tailed him EVERYWHERE HE WENT, TWENTY-FOUR HOURS A DAY!

When my father asked why, they said they had received a tip-off that my father had had a stake in a bakery that was located close to our house and that he was receiving bribes and favours from the owner. My father said that the family that owned the bakery were indeed close family friends, but stressed that that was all they were. He denied the charges vehemently. While he was outraged, he was at the same time, afraid. He was close to retirement and feared losing everything he had worked for. Still, he stayed calm and maintained his dignity.

It was huge relief for him when they told him not to worry - they said that they had no evidence anyway! In fact, the officers who tailed him often complained to their superiors - they said that it was exceedingly BORING tailing my father. All he ever did was go to work, do his prayers and take classes at the masjid and stay home with his family.

Their only concern was that there was one day when records showed that my father had left the office for a few hours. This was easily explained - my father clarified that a Muslim friend of his had passed away. Since Muslims bury their dead without delay, he had to leave immediately for the prayers and funeral.

Anyway, the CPIB found NO DIRT on him - my father was THAT trustworthy, mashaa Allah.

This story never fails to make me smile. As a child and a teen, I DID used to think that my father was boring. Now though, when I remember, I think, it’s not a bad thing at all…