Blue-Haired Muslim

Chapter 3: History

Sam opened the front doors to the mosque and closed his eyes. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for or what he expected to find once he opened his eyes. He bit the corner of his lip unconsciously before opening his right eye a small fraction only to quickly open both eyes. In front of him lay a simple hallway lined with racks full of shoes. The racks were so full that many pairs of shoes were lined neatly against the walls. The walls of the hallway were covered in grand depictions of Arabic calligraphy. He didn't understand the words written on the walls, but even in his young age, he could admire the work of art before him.

Before he could properly take in his surroundings, he felt someone thump him on his back, knocking the wind out of him. Sam quickly turned around and looked at the man who had patted him on the back.

"Bro, you can't be just dawdling around the mosque. What room are you supposed to be in?"

The voice came from a very muscular man in a security guard's outfit. He could have been a Hispanic wrestler if it weren't for the kufi perched on his head. Sam felt as if he had lost the ability to speak, but managed to stammer,

"Uh-uh- I'm not in any class!"

"And? You think that gives you the right to roam about? Bro, stop playing hooky. Let's go find the imam if you've got too much time on your hands," the man shook his head as he steered Sam forcibly down the hallway.

"Uh-I-," Sam stammered as the older man steered him towards a massive hall. The hall was dome shaped and the ceiling was nearly thirty feet high. There were different styles of Arabic calligraphy all over the walls, spaced out to cover the entire hall. Sam nearly bolted from the room once he noticed a crowd of people sitting in the middle of the hall on the carpet. He really didn't want to disturb anyone if they were praying, especially since he wasn't Muslim himself.

Before Sam could bolt, he spotted his father standing at a podium with a look of determination on his face.

"Alhumdu-," Max began and paused before shaking his head.

"Take your time, Max. It's not a race," a man, younger looking than Max, said as he scratched his beard and patted Max on the back.

"Imam Nedim, you taught me this last week. I should have it by now," Max growled in frustration.

"How many times do I have to tell you, patience is a big part of being a Muslim. Take a deep breath and start over," Nedim smiled before pointing at the Quran that lay on the podium.

Sam felt his lips twitch into a smile at his father being scolded. Max was usually quite easygoing, bUt when it came to learning new things, he was very competitive. Sam watched as Max cleared his throat and quickly scanned the holy book in front of him. Sam smirked, expecting to hear his dad stumble over the Arabic words again, but felt his eyes widen in surprise as he watched his father inhale and confidently recite the words in front of him.

"Al hamdu lillaahi rabbil 'alameen," Max recited powerfully.

Sam felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand up as his father's voice reverberated off the walls of the hall and extended up to the dome. He had seen his father sitting around their home with his copy of the Quran in his hand, but he had never heard his father actually recite anything in Arabic. When did his father learn so much Arabic and why did it sound so otherworldly.

"Fantastic. Now do you remember what the ayat means?" Nedim asked as he looked at Max expectantly.

"Yes, because that's in English. I'm pretty good at English. It means, that all praise is to Allah, Lord of the worlds," Max replied confidently.