Kaffir Road
Friday, September 11, 2009 Read more → editor, muslims in england, spirituality, zaufishan.co.uk In the name of God, entirely Compassionate, especially Merciful | Peace be with you
In the name of God, compassionate & merciful بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمنِ الرَّحِيمِ | Peace be with you السلام عليكم
When you're fasting and trying to reduce those negative habits embedded in you, the words 'disbeliever', 'punishment' and 'hell' resonate in the mind a lot.
I suppose it's a default reaction to preventing doing wrong. Remember when our parents told us: "Do not touch that gorgeously fudgey goeey chocolate cake. It's delicious, but YOU can't have it, yet." And then when nobody was looking (except, later on you learnt, God was) you nibbled on the edge which turned into a bite and then a massive Zaufishan-sized face imprint was left in the side of the cake and your face was covered in chocolate? No? ...Just me then... And then, your - my - parents would look at me with a grin and question: "Well, if YOU didn't taste the cake like you're saying, why is there frosting on your cheeks and forehead?" My usual confident response was: "It fell on." That also works with the 'do NOT think of a PINK elephant' (5, 4, 3... 2... 1!) SEE! You thought of a PINK elephant! I digress - I was talking about automatic reactions.
From the age of 11, I and my mother would drive ten miles at 7am every weekday morning to get to school. If you didn't know, both of my parents are teachers (read my biography already); the best thing about having "teachery" parents is the enlightened dinners, intellectual conversations, discussions on social events, comparing education systems and a good mutual understanding of how students work, and how parents tick. The worst thing about "teachery" parents is the drone dinners, repetitive intellectual conversations, discussion after discussion on events that happened three centuries ago, the huge glitches in England and America's education system and the lack of opportunities for students to rebel, and for parents to reboot.
Anyway, my mother was a teacher at the SAME high school I went to. I left after two years (!) Oh hey, here's an interesting fact for you - our sister Mariam Khalid on MIE.com was a fellow student at high school. Over a decade on and we reunite, wohoo! So I was saying, we travelled to school and would drive past this road sign that read "Kaffir Road".
Now in Islamic terminology the word 'kaffir' does not get good press, like most Islamicised concepts. Literally speaking "Kaffir" means to reject and disbelieve in the existence of God. Linguistically speaking, "Kaffir" has a diverse range of meanings from saying no, rejecting ideas, covering up the truth and lying. Hence, we clever Muslims like to juxtapose "Happy Friendly Normal Muslim" with "Depressing Crazy Abnormal Kaffir".
In my head, at the age of eleven where only what lived in my head was important, I did not know what that word meant. When my mother would point out (every morning) "Look at that, Kaffir Road, he he, that means a road of non-muslims", a small light bulb *pinged* in my head and I wanted to look up the word in a dictionary and meet these foreign non-god-believing people.
About eight years ago, my family moved from the long-term family house to an epic mansion for the next five years. That house, which I'd love to show off one day insha'Allah, became "too big" and they moved again. They bought another house that was beautiful, had its own name, a veranda, a tiny stream, trees, fields, squirrels and posh aristocratic neighbours. They moved. To Kaffir Road.
Yes, yes, the family have had their share of drama and mocking humour of the road name, and our extended family (mostly the men) have "lol-ed" and "(^_^)" and smacked their legs in roaring laughter.
I don't mind too much telling you this since I figure, if the British Police know who I am and where my family live, and the FBI have located me and know what I do, what are a few more thousand strangers...
I know you're grinning at me and in your head the word "Whuutt?!" is ebbing. That is the default reaction I'm still generalising about. Kaffir Road is a very popular road it turns out, ask Sheikh Google for more information. The most expensive house on this road is £2 million; each house is named and detached and aesthetically structured very different to the next. The community on Kaffir Road is not widely diverse but my family are the only Muslims there. That makes the jokes' potential even greater. During Islamic events 30 cars will be parked outside and the neighbours will raise eyebrows at the radical happiness taking place.
Kaffir Road is not A 'kaffir' road. It is just a name, and is actually pronounced "kafeer" after a rich white guy about 150 years back. I like to tell people in a loud voice "Yes! Being Muslim is far more fun when you're in Infidel-land!" It embarrasses them. On Kaffir Road, my family make extra effort to invite the neighbours over and even share out Ramadan Gifts, Iftar Packs © (I will show you this later too) and explanations of Islamic terminology with the neighbours. With the fasting season two-thirds of the way complete, they are fund raising and will insha'Allah invite neighbours to partake in their Muslimness.
All in all, my family are converting Kaffir Road to one that is more believing, and less punishable. That takes courage, planned action and rational thought. And that is the lesson I learned strongly today. Do not assume things upon first glance or judge too early without seeing all sides of the diamond. The default reaction to people, events and phrases is not necessarily the most viable one.
While you are fasting and trying harder to reduce those negative habits embedded in you, throw the words 'conviction', 'reward' and 'everlasting gardens' to the forefront of your mind. For that, my little Muslim community online, is what you will gain, for living as a Muslim, on Kaffir Road.
Zaufishan ★ frolicking in a field of buttercups, hunting squirrels for suhoor... hmm, squirrel kebabs...
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By: The Misanthrope
Peace & respect ★
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