Disclaimer: The characters used in this story belong to Jane Austen. Her work is beautiful, and it could not be recreated.
This fanfiction is inspired from the recent Trump Administration policies on the immigrants and the Muslims. By no means, this fanfiction is aimed at criticizing any individual or group. Difference of opinion is always welcomed. This fanfiction aims at narrating opinions and experience of different groups and individuals, so that we understand each other. Understanding each other can lead us to compromise, and to live in a world where we could make better and informed decisions.
The names of countries and organizations are fictional in this fanfiction, whereas religions and cultural elements like cuisines and cloths are real. I would already apologize for any misrepresentation or for hurting anyone's feelings. Thank you!
"So, why are they calling you Lizzie, again?" Jameela asked, while I passed her a roti.
"It was Professor Adams class, you know how he has this hearing problem. He thought that my name is Lizzie, and then added 'why would your parents name you Lizzie and force you to wear that thing on your head'.' I touched my scarf, and continued, "People will never understand a hijabi!. Someone should write a book about hijab experience of different woman in different countries."
"Well, he has a little prejudice for Muslims and sometimes he is racist." She smiled with sympathy.
"It is not just him, people back home don't understand hijab either—
"Let's just eat!" she interrupted me before I could starts a whole debate, which was my intention, my best friend knew me well.
We sat in a typical Nuqistani Restaurant that was set up by immigrants in this foreign land. Nurqistan is the country where I was born and raised. It is a beautiful place with amazing people. I came to this foreign land called Aobsland a few months ago, on a student visa, to do an undergrad degree in International Relations at Humsford University— one of the best in the world. This country was very different from mine, and worst of all the image of my country was not at all good in this country and in west, in general.
Alhamdulillah (all praise and gratitude belongs only to God), I found Jamela, at an event organized by MSA (Muslim Student Association). At my first day at Humsford Redcliff Government School, I was given a pamphlet by a brother named Abdul Rahim. It was about an orientation event at the MSA. At that event I met many Muslim students and two faculty members of University of Humsford. When I met them my fear of how-a-Nuqistani-hijabi-will-fit-in-a-foreign-not-so-Muslim-setting disappeared. At that event I met fourteen other Nuqistanis, most of them were Aobsland Nationals. Unfortunately or fortunately, none of them was in anyway related to Redcliff. Most of them were living the Nuqistani dream by going to Humsford's med school. At that event I met Jameela, she was a Political Sciences' student ay Redcliff, but we had a few courses together. At that event we were strangers, after that we became friends, than roommates and now best friends. Best friends who ate dinner that was only appetizing to other. That night was one of those nights when Jameela complained about the food a lot.
"How do you people each this spicy food?" she began
"The same way you Maddris eat not so spicy food. Just by the way, spices were the reason that western traders came to our land. They found their food plain and wanted to taste our spices. Over time they wanted to taste our economy—
"I am not in mood of a history class," she complained, "we already have a history class tomorrow."
Before it was too late we went to our university accommodation, the Humsford Backley Apartments. The accommodation did not have any curfew hours, but we like to sleep early, so that we can pray early in the morning. We lived in Block D, which had a majority of female population. This means we could go around without hijab for almost 90% of time. We went into the building. We took the stairs, and reached the third floor, where our room was. I used my key to open the door, and we went inside. I took deep breath; we performed our night prayer (Isha).
After the prayer, I took my off my scarf and cap, and threw it in the laundry basket. My head was hurting from wearing the scarf the whole day. My hair was flattened and oily due to my hijab. I went to take a bath, when I got back Jameela was on her bed. She was wearing a tank top and shorts. In her country's culture they wore an abayah and scarf outdoors, and western cloths indoors with certain exceptions, whereas, in my country we wore the same shalwar khamiz inside and outside. In my country covering one's head dependent on the situation one finds oneself in. Very few girls actually wear a head scarf according to religious rules, and I was one of them, trying my best to follow the rules
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a white, rich, conservative and Islamophobic man must grimace at the sight of me. I passed Darcy as I entered the class room, and tried my best to ignore him. I was a lone that morning. Jameela was going to be late because she was still in her bad. She was always late for morning classes. When I passed Darcy his best friend Bingley greeted me. I greeted back and avoided looking at Darcy. Bingley was also a rich, white, and political man, but contrary to Darcy he was a liberal. It is funny that they were die-hearted best friends when their politics was literally left and right. As usual Bingley and Darcy were debating about politics. That day's topic was some nuclear deal. I didn't pay attention to details, and went towards my usual spot in the class.
I sat on a chair in front row that was nearest to projector screen. Sitting in front helped in taking notes and concentrating on the lecture. I unzipped my bag pack and took out my modern world history notebook. A middle-aged professor Dr Wickham taught us this course. He was a funny character. During his school days he was in business with the beauty pageant, details of his work remain unknown, but we did know that he was lucky with the ladies. In fact, many of the girls in that class had serious crush on him. He was a good teacher, but sometimes he made us do assignments in beauty pageant style.
Dr Wickham entered the room and everyone settled into their seats. He smiled devilishly. He had a hat in his hand. It was a black chat with a white feather attached to it, something that would only be seen at a ramp. "Good Moring my darlings," he began. Did I forget to mention that he treats us like contestants on a top model show! "Last night," he continued and Lydia, the most annoying person in that class giggled, "I had an amazing idea to decide the topics and the partners for your final project for this course."
My phone vibrated, I took it carefully and hid it from Dr. Wickham's sight. It was Jameela. I turned around and found her sitting in the back. I came quicker than I expected.
Nooooooooo! I was planning to do this with you. Her text read.
I typed IKR and added a crying face emoji and hit send. Then I composed another text
We can still hope that he pairs us. I added a smiling face and hit send again.
"I will pass this hat around," Dr Wickham was explaining his scheme, "in this I have folded some pieces of paper with a topic written in them. Each one of you will pick a chit. There are two chits have exact same topic, whoever gets the same topic will be paired to do their project together. Overall, your project is about the drivers of history, each pair will be doing one driver. I am going to pass this hat now, and one more thing, no one will unfold their chits until I tell you to. Understood?"
The class nodded and he passed the hat around, when hat reached me I picked a chit. Once everyone got their chits Dr Wickham told us to open them. I had religion written on mine. My phone vibrated, and from the notifications I read Jameela's message. She had technology. I sent a bunch of crying face and sad face emojis to her, and told her that I had religion.
"Who will be working on ideas as driver of history?" Dr Wickham asked.
Collin and Kitty had ideas, and they raised their hands.
"Who has race?" asked Dr Wickham.
Bingley and his girlfriend Jane raised their hands.
I type lucky on my phone and sent it to Jameela.
"Oh, this is my favourite topic, who has disease?" Dr Wickham asked again.
A giggling Lydia and Caroline raised their hands.
"Okay, who has religion?" he asked.
I raised my hand and turned around to find my partner. Oh, no! It was Darcy.
Would this be a love story or a reality defining how religion and culture shape our perspective? Only time will tell! Kindly share your feedback, and apologies to anyone who feels offended.
Have a nice time until I upload again.
Update: After getting few reviews, I think that I need to make few things clear. First of all I am a Muslim woman, living in a Muslim country. The focus of this fanfic will be the narrative of someone who is new to Western world, and practices their religion. I am not using names of real countries to avoid unnecessary politics. It should also be noted that all the characters in this fanfiction have flawed understanding of the world of other individual, so bear with me on these things and see how this story develops.
Guest Review 1: I will work to improve the quality of this story. I wasn't expecting such response. I was on this website a long time ago and only two or so people read my stuff. Anyways, story writing is my biggest weakness. My sole aim for coming back on this website is to improve my English and writing, for a competitive exam that I plan to take in future. Last time I was here, I got a lot of criticism on my language skills and ideas. Only because of that criticism I was able to improve my writing style and ideas. So, I am back to learn more
Answer to Mpal: There are some 1.5b Muslims in the world, and there are a lot of interpretations of Islam. Furthermore, sometimes some people are not able to explain about their religion in a way they should. Thank you for your review. I will try to avoid mistakes of your colleagues. At times religious scholars fail to explain certain things. Being a PhD in worldly matters doesn't give anyone authority in religious knowledge. I am really sorry that some Muslims explain hijab in a way that a woman who doesn't wear one is given impression of slut. If you want to understand Islam then look at our book, The Quran. Quran is a unique literary form, so I suggest watching Nouman Ali Khan's YouTube videos to understand it better. With this fanfic I aim to clarify some misconceptions that you highlighted in coming chapters.
Another guest discussed the anti-Islam and race issue. Well I have the whole thing planned. How Muslims around the world see race is different than Westerners. I would like to save that for future chapters. Many people use racism in my country as a term for any discrimination. Why do they do it? Wait for next few chapters.
Thank you for your feedback!