9
It was obvious that the French considered other faiths as harmful.
Besides, all the problems with North Africa and Asian terrorism did
not smooth things over.
Asmaa and I often felt the fright inside the people we were
dealing with, the fear of an aggression, and the fear they could lose
their freedom because of us. Sometimes we felt it too.
So this day of 1994, Asmaa and I had had a rest for a day, an illusory
rest indeed. The night had completely fallen over the city now, and
people had hurried their way home, and we felt on the spot; we had
stayed too late outside, talking too much. We had to go back now to
the University. I was becoming scary.
Behind the huge buildings, shapes suddenly detached themselves
from the walls. They seemed unreal across the beams of moonlight
that eventually faded from view. They seemed to form ghostly
shadows, slipping with difficulty along the paths. It was now about
eight o'clock, people had finished their work and almost everyone
had joined their families in the comfort of their homes. But we were
there, walking along the cobblestones, our blood running cold.
Suddenly, the shadows took human shapes: three skinheads
approached as three or four streams of perspiration ran along my
skin. I prepared myself for a confrontation, rolling my keys inside
my fist, the sharp edges pointing up. This was not the first time
Asmaa and I would be facing angry and harsh people. Sometimes it
was just the look in their eyes staring at us with hate or fear that
bothered us. Sometimes they would act upon their feelings. We,
ourselves, were ready for anything. I tried to think about something
else, tried not to let it become too troubling. The skinheads now
stammered slowly towards Asmaa. I saw defiance in her eyes
slightly covered by her long eyelashes. A few people who happened
to be there as well looked at our group suspiciously, hastening their
pace in order to avoid trouble; we knew that nobody would lift a
finger to help us. I was understandably afraid, but I pulled myself
together. Besides, I was not alone in the dim light. I recited the
supplication Muslims use in case of need: “We place You before
them and we take refuge in You from their evil." I agreed entirely to
everything Allah had prepared for us; I had no feeling of rebellion.
But I knew the skinheads were attracted by what was on our head.
Now, in the gloomy shade of the town, my thoughts were focused on
the hijab I was wearing. Why? Because it was not an insignificant
piece of cloth, but a burning charcoal, flaming and red-hot. With this
veil all covered up, we had helpec the vagrants. At the same time,
we had lost the opportunity to have an A on our diplomas, and
nobody would give us the right to be French anymore; we had given
up the ordinary Western life. Anyway, the bold skinheads, painted
in green and red, were there. One shabby guy talked to Asmaa. My
head was hurting, I could not concentrate on what they were saying,
10
but I remember she was my sister, like myself, and she now smiled at
me. The skinheads had left. She explained everything later:
"They took us for Gypsies; the Gypsies sell drugs in the middle of
the town; their women look like us you know. That was it!"
Once again, I had difficulties in comprehending the world. I could
not believe it! Skinheads who had the worst reputation would not
harm us, while people of our own blood or heritage would fight
against us. I suddenly felt angry and sad. This event made things
clear for me that in the practice of our religion, we were alone, all
alone before Allah, and if we were not able to face our fears, our
personal weaknesses, then nothing could spare us from the dangers
that lay there, around us, at any time, the dangers that Satan would
have the great pleasure to bestow on us.
At the same time, I would think about the Ummah, even if a few
people understood what it meant really. All these people who shared
the same convictions of Peace and Dignity were my people! And
this is what I felt while the Muslim girls from high school held their
demonstrations in the streets along with their parents. We all felt the
same solidarity. One carried a flag saying, "The hijab is our honor!”
I still believe it is.
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