In the name of God, compassionate & merciful بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمنِ الرَّحِيمِ | Peace be with you السلام عليكم
Today I did the unthinkable and woke up a couple of hours late. You can never predict the catastrophic consequences of mussing up the natural disorder that I live in... One, two hour re-alignment and like a domino effect, things come crashing down.
It hit 2.30pm and I remembered I had a dentist appointment but was unsure of the time. It was that 6 monthly check up the dentists obligate so I wasn't worried; I'd forgotten the time though so literally rummaged through my box-case like a hobo.
(I do NOT have a woman bag, those stupid shoulder things women carry under their pits with nonsense like, I don't know, face paints and purses and girly things, blech). I have a box-case, it isn't quite a suitcase, but with a box-like handle, it's big enough to carry around a small country and its entire population. I carry important things like passport (Just In Case), scissors, packets of dried fruit, marker pens, paracetomal, chewing gum and plasters (bandaids). So I found the dentist card (very posh-looking) and the appointment was at 3pm! Shhh-azzaaam!
I immediately had an attack of Ramadan Breath. It took 2 minutesto get changed, wear walking shoes, re-stuff the box-case-bag-thing with said fruit, pens and medicine but took 25 minutes to brush teeth, brush lips, brush gums and brush tongue, then floss teeth, check face for weird unsightly 'fugliness', check headscarf was on properly and no skin was showing, then brush teeth again. My blessed Ramadan Breath still lingered... Ramadan Breath is a part of fasting, usually it's taken as a humble reminder, it isn't 'unclean' but the result of no action from saliva glands and tasting food. I risked it and caught public transport - British buses rule - rang the dentist to inform them I would be late 'due to unforeseen circumstances' and ran my pixie legs to get there for 3.01pm. Ta-da! I crawled into the reception panting like a buffoon and thought 'oye oye, this place acquires a more shmexier class each time I visit'.
The dentist I have is ultra-chic, you would think it was the club to a high-fashion catwalk company. They have white tiles everywhere, a fish aquarium, a private booth for phone calls, a large inbuilt plasma screen with Sky News on and a scrolling section at the bottom of the screen that reads information about the dentist staff like an important celebrity announcement. "Dr Tracy: She gained her nursing qualifications in 2005 from Liverpool and loves to help the poor. She enjoys shopping, meeting new people and socialising with friends!"I'm not kidding, it scrolls a short biography and image of each dentist. Very ooh-la-la. There were six other people sat in the lounge - see, it was a lounge, there are no 'waiting rooms' here, it's THE LOUNGE or, the lobby; five women, two with prams and one older gentleman. They sat on black leather sofas that are similar to the ones seen in MTV's celebrity 'Cribs' program, and black upholstered silver seats. Über classy.
I inform the pretty young ladies at the desk I'm here and am told to'take a seat madam, you will be called when the dentists are ready for you'. They're all dressed in pale blue tailored gowns, flat open toe sandals and smiling under freshly dyed blonde and red hair. More ooh-la-la. So I decide to sit next to Mr Older Gentleman considering the other seats are occupied by skimpy women and their gurgling babies. Mr Older Gentleman looks at me with one of those 'what are you going to do?' scorns and moves three millimetres to the right to make room for me. Acknowledging this gesture (I'm not fat, dude) I smile, say thank you and sit like a lady... Two minutes later I cannot keep the façade up so I slouch back making a squelching noise into the leather, throw one leg over the other like a man and prop my head onto a resting elbow. The man turned and grinned. I'm sure he was laughing at me, idiot, but strangely began to talk to me. When Mr Older Gentleman who first questioningly looks at a 'hijabi' and then begins a conversation without a prompt, you know you've got a Potential Dawah Opportunity (PDO).
He asks, 'are you very warm miss?' I knew what he meant but replied, 'What do you mean?'
'Warm under your scarf? Does it get unbearably hot?' It was a nice heated day, and I was the only one dressed in headscarf, dress, cardigan, and jacket. 'Sometimes', I truthfully reply, 'but as with all clothing, you learn to adapt, change material, and so long as the objectives of clothing yourself as you need to, and gaining a particular look, are met, it's no major burden'. This response pleased him, I could tell by the way his radically overgrown eyebrows lifted and he smiled. 'Do you have permission to take your scarf off? Do they allow you to dress differently? Do you only wear it for special occasions?' Yeahhh, I wanted to say, I wear it for a DENTIST APPOINTMENT, and what did he mean "they"? I should have asked him who he thought "they" were?. Clearly as an older and therefore maybe more wiser gentleman than the general TV-media worshipping sap, he knew something factual about Islam, Muslimness and women's clothing issues.
Instead of rebuking I thought and replied pretty "speechified", 'this headscarf isn't a permanent dress code, it's worn by women who become Muslim - I am Muslim, hi - when they will meet or be surrounded by men and women, who have no real right to see their exposed body parts. Just as it would be controversial to the norm if a man walked in naked, it goes against Islamic norm for a woman to be exposed in that way at certain times. For some people it IS offensive, limiting, but so is a mini-skirt to me. That doesn't mean a headscarf or long dress never comes off, we're people too and love to part-ey and there are hundreds of styles for wrapping a headscarf on so every Muslim women will tell you the same: Once you become Muslim, this lifestyle is a refreshing package deal, food, social conduct and clothing. It makes living better, more focused, helpful for society.'I could see the other women looking at me now since I was the only one lecturing loudly amongst all six patients and now three staff members pretending to work. In retrospect it was also quite ironic: Here was the only man, asking the only 'hijabi' about covering up, when the other women were in skin-tight leggings, low cut dresses, see through blouses and all of them, inevitably, with naked heads.
The man smiled again, a good mature response I think, usually people quickly retort, begin to raise their voices and I find myself in the middle of an argument I'm not even a part of. He was going to say something else, I knew it, but my bloody dentist walked in with perfect white teeth and called me 'I'm available for you Ms. Iqbal, please follow me when you're ready'. Again, ooh la la. Drat, I could have converted the older man. In my head I have action scenes going on where in alternate-lives I'm a super hero or an overly emotional actress fighting for survival. "NO! (being dragged leg first on the floor by evil dentist) Gimme one more hour with the man! I coulda' saved his life! Give me freedom! NOOOOOO!
The dentists at this uber-chic place are super-cool too. There are three dentists, all male and coincidentally, all Muslim. There's Dr. Hussain who has a thick black beard, glasses and yet looks 18 years old. He is hip. He trots in and out of rooms in slacks and yellow trainers, I mistook him once for a patient and he sheepishly said 'Um, no, I work here, I mean, I am a dentist, I own all... of this.' There'sDr Farooq who is my dentist and some other guy I've never met. And did I mention the all-female nurses? They're all jubilant, happy and their qualifications decorate the back black painted wall. The dentist is coloured in monochrome - black and white only, with maroon lush carpeted staircases, huge Warhol-copy prints on the walls of pretty young perfect-teeth smiling faces and chandeliers. IT HAS CHANDELIERS! The only other place I know with that many glassy dangly chandeliers is the former house I lived in - I had a chandelier in every room... Anyway, enough said, you get the picture. This dentist is smokin' H-O-T.
So we go 'upstairs' into a room where another young pretty lady is sat with a computer and what looks like a Palm computer in her hand. I bet she was Facebooking. We go through the usual rigmarole of how many times do you brush your teeth? - Never, I joke - do you floss? - What's that? I mock - have you had any problems? - Yes, I answer seriously, I can't get my grandmother off my case, my science studies are becoming stressful and I have this bad itch on my toe, I think I have rabies. My dentist, bless him, knows me now so my dry humour rolls off his balding head like thunder. He sighs, 'So you're fine then?' I nod, grinning.
He asked me about Ramadan and how fasting was going, this was a nice conversation. We swapped complaints on general tiredness, how fast the fasts were travelling and how we cope with being patient and generous. Dr Farooq said in front of his beautiful assistant who kept sticking her fingers in my mouth - BACK OFF WOMAN! I BITE! -'Sometimes I don't want to come into work. I think what's the point? I'm not saving lives but it does support my family. Then I think work is important, no matter how insignificant others deem it, it's my work, it's dutiful to help so I will try my best at it.' Cool rationale, said I. He then asked me if I was fasting - cheek - I said yes, and he regrettably told me I could not receive the 'shine and polish' as that would invalidate my fast. Oh bugger, I was looking forward to sparkling shiny teeth. I was grateful he asked and mentioned that though, a non-Muslim doctor would have made me take pills or something. There's a song I sing by Chip Skylark (on YouTube), about how I love my teeth (yes, I know the song by heart and sing it very loudly); but if shining them and accidentally swallowing that poisonous teeth-cleaning product might mess up my fast, I agreed not to.
Then I told him about the work I do - we talk a lot, dentist and I - and I let him know about Muslims In England! He said he would check us out so 'Doc. Farooq! Salamings! I will send you an Eid card insha'Allah, I forgot today, my bad!' ...Nice networking Zaufishan.-pat on back-
It's pretty weird having a man stare into your mouth and up your nose and prod all over. I held my breath to make sure no swampy Ramadan Breath wafted up his nostrils. Lucky for him though he was wearing a gas mask. Well, it's not a gas mask but those surgical face masks that prevents Ramadan Breath from seizing them. That was probably to hide his Ramadan Breath too! He was well prepared. And I'm pretty blessed to have a Muslim dentist, al'hamdulillah. When you work with Muslims and have Muslims working for you, life does become easier and more relaxed, to an extent. They are more sensitive to your needs and limits. And when you're surrounded by people who are more open to learning and enculturation, they too become aware of Islamic events and dates, Islamic faith and the correct do's and dont's associated with it. I could have said truckloads more to the older gentleman. I think I should have asked for his details to invite him around for a get together... But that might have been misconstrued, y'know? Young, eloquent, psychotic, single Muslim woman (me) asking an older, greying non-Muslim man for his number? Not exactly easy-peasy. Ah, well. Maybe next time I'll bring leaflets!
Other stuff happened, I fell down the stairs, hurt my back, I tried to stick to some more Ramadan Resolutions, that was weak... the 20th fast is nearly here so I was planning for that in terms of dua' to read, working out how many and which men want to go into 'itiqaaf'; that's an intense 10-day spiritual retreat where people step back from daily living in Ramadan to focus on worship and improving their character. They usually come out of it the same, but al'hamdulillah, during it they're completely elated.
Right, I'm going to wreck my teeth now with sugar and acid. Ramadan Cream folks!
Zaufishan ★ singing ♫ 'My shiny teeth that sparkle, just like an Eidmas tree, (la-aa-aa) why should I talk to you? When I got thirty-two! Woo! My shiny teeth and me...'♫
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