As Thin As A Thread
By Sister CAS
Rashaa stood adjusting her headscarf making sure it was neat. The line was long with passengers waiting to board. She looked around as she shuffled ahead, staring at what was left of her nails. Would they pull her aside? Would they do more than a simple wave of a wand? Her eyes darted from one person to another unsure of friend or foe.
She was on her way to her father’s homeland, Syria. She hadn’t been back since she was ten. Now eighteen she wanted to experience her other half, her Arab half.
A half grinned smiled curved her face as she was waved passed the security point. She sighed a breath of relief. Rashaa’s face loosened from the tight knot it was as she boarded the plane. Sixteen hours was a long flight. She prayed she would be seated next to a nice person. Eyes grew cautious as she found her place amongst the angry stares, softened sighs and eyes of pity. She quietly slid next to the window placing her handbag under her seat. Soon a small frail gentleman with gray hair perhaps in his seventies slowly lowered himself to his chair next to her. He smiled and introduced himself. How do you do madam? With eyes lowered she nervously shook his hand and smiled back. He seemed warm and kind. She was glad she had him sitting next to her. She had always found the elderly more compassionate towards her. Perhaps it was their sense of morals and upbringing. Her elderly neighbors always spoke with respect towards her and her faith. They spoke of days when woman held their dignity and wore scarves for church services. They were happy to see some who still upheld those virtues.
As the flight started to lift off, the older gentleman began to speak as if they were long time chums who were catching up on lost time. Rashaa actually found him fascinating. He lived in South Africa, met many Muslims, and spoke of his time there. Rashaa spoke of her travels to her second home, her other half of her soul. He sat eyes intently watching her every word, telling a story of adventure to a far off land. She told him of life and how it was different there. They sat talking, nodding off for naps. The plane landed as scheduled. They parted with warm wishes of peace and smiles.
It was a good flight. She immediately felt a sense of belonging, one of comfort, Aslaam Alakum [peace be upon you] She heard as she passed through customs. Walakum Aslaam [peace be upon you also] she replied. It was a stark difference from here and America. Rashaa walked straighter, taller, almost with a spring in her step. The anguish washed away, smiling, her cheeks glowed red with delight. A sense of belonging and pride warmed her soul. As she rounded the bend calls of Salaams and hellos echoed down the hall a mix of Arabic and English rung out in the air. A clash of two worlds blending as one, night and day had become a whole. They gathered like herds all clacking at once. She was royalty being carried off to her chariot. Smothered by their affection she felt over whelmed. Her eyes grew heavier as she squeezed into the car with her Arab family next to the window. She glanced out. There was sand and bushes, palm trees, litter and what felt like a million people all around. She remembered how much she had missed the green grass and trees back home. She followed the mountains as they surrounded the city, a mix of ancient market places and modern buildings. Horse drawn carts and white mini taxi vans fighting for room along the road. Yells of cusaa, cusaa [zucchini, zucchini] rang out from the horse drawn carts. There were smells of chicken kabobs, spices of Falafel and rows and rows of fresh garlic. Shop after shop of different smells. There was a sea of colored scarves and white tiny hats. All blending like a rainbow of beautiful flowers all displayed for her arrival. Warmth hugged her like a blanket of security that encompassed her soul. Life was different here she knew. Perhaps a bit more rugged and less complicated, an almost slower step, family and faith where far more important than the life of constant movement. Always on the go, always looking to get ahead, ahead of what?
She spent one month visiting and seeing things differently than she had before. They may have appeared a bit backwards to the outside world but in reality they understood what life meant. What was important?
Echoes of peace surrounded her as she boarded her plane to head home. She again felt an anguish of who was to be seated next to her and what was to come. She settled in next to the window and drifted into thought. She could still hear the call to prayer echoing in her mind, the beautiful chorus of the land calling out peaceful wishes to one another. She was reminded of Providence and how Roger Williams founded it. He came here with a need to give freedom of religion to all those who desired it. He named it Providence, which meant a haven for religious freedom to all mankind. Time had past quickly. The flight was over. As she gathered her bags and was flagged to step aside for her second screening she thought to herself, Would Roger Williams still be proud today to see what he worked so hard for slowly slipping away? The difference between what’s right or wrong is as thin as a thread of a spider’s web. Could society break that thread and meet somewhere in the middle? Perhaps starting with the Islamic words, Peace unto you. Perhaps if we start with peace we could have the land Roger Williams envisioned. As the security guy checked her suitcase one last time, Rahsaa smiled to him and said, “Peace unto you.” He smiled back and said, “peace to you also.” She felt warmth, familiar warmth. She smiled. She was heading home, back to her American home, her other half of self.
Last update : 12-01-2007 13:49
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