Free Worlds Apart by Azi Ahmed Page B

wasn’t any of this explained to me at the mosque? I remembered the religious wars between Muslims, Christians and Jews, when I was growing up: the poisonous enmity between Catholics and Protestants during the IRA bombings; the Sunnis’ and Shiites’ seven-year war in Iran and Iraq. I wanted to find out about these other religions and began with the Brompton Oratory Church. It was magical. I discovered that names mentioned in the Bible, like Abraham, Isaac and Sarah, were also in the Koran. The best part was, when I bought an English translation of the Koran, half the stories were the same as those in the Bible. I began to wonder, who copied who?
    The experience set me off on a journey visiting synagogues, Hindu temples, Buddhist retreats and even a couple of cult groups to get a handle on how religion became so powerful that it made people kill one another. I never got the answer, but throughout this journey I recited my prayers from the Koran. Islam was my faith and always would be, though I now had to accept Jesus was not Muslim, I also didn’t believe he was Jewish or Christian, but perhaps a mixture of all three.
    Towards the end of the year, Robert offered me a place on the summer computing course. I hesitated, asI had a limited grant, which meant that I couldn’t afford to stay in London during the holidays. It had been playing on my mind for some time and I had done another round of shop interviews but hadn’t got anywhere.
    I was taken aback when Andrew offered me his home to stay in because he was off to France.
    The house was situated in south London on a leafy street. I arrived with a carrier bag of clothes. Andrew handed me a set of keys and showed me around. I left the bag in the main bedroom, where he’d laid clean sheets on the bed, then followed him downstairs, all the time looking out for his wife. We sat at the kitchen table having a cup of tea, running through how the heating and water worked, when I heard the front door close. It’s her, I thought, imagining Andrew’s wife to be a pretty blonde, perhaps French.
    A man entered and touched Andrew affectionately on the shoulder. My mind went to their bed upstairs, the one I would be sleeping in, and I began to panic. ‘You’re gay!’ I screamed inside. I wanted to find an excuse to leave but couldn’t think of one. Then I stopped myself, suddenly feeling ashamed. Neither Andrew nor his partner was judging me for being Pakistani like most of the people I grew up with had. Instead, Andrew had welcomed me with open arms and had kindly offered me his home. He didn’t have to do this, nor did he have tomentor me the way he had. I thought back to Mark’s partner and how insulted he had looked at my hostility. I had no right to judge what people did in their personal lives. I smiled at the man, then shook his hand and planted a big kiss on his cheek.
    Towards the end of the summer break, I called up loads of design houses for work experience and finally got a place at a magazine publisher based in the city. The work was rewarding and the art director allowed me to use the computers, which had the latest graphic programs installed, so I could learn how to use them.
    The offices had a 24-hour security guard, who the art director introduced me to. She said I could go into the offices in the evenings and at weekends to use her computer to practise. Later she commissioned me to do a computer illustration for one of the magazines and I was paid a whopping £40. What was more satisfying than the money, though, was seeing my name in print. By the end of the summer, I had learnt three new programmes and had been offered regular illustration work for a magazine. I moved back to my bedsit just before college began again. I now had money in the bank and felt like I was finally settling into the city.
    My visits home continued. Hajji was also doing my job now, serving at the front of the shop. He didn’t look pleased about it and totally blanked me when I’d go