Free Boy vs. Girl by Na'ima B. Robert Page A

containers, sending through more food. They would all be in a hurry now, to catch the night prayers at the mosque, then
tarawih
.
    Uncle Munir’s wife, Asma, put on a pan of milk to make sweet cardamom tea.
    â€œWhere is Najma?” asked Auntie Anisa’s husband, Uncle Ali.
    Auntie Anisa rolled her eyes. “Oh,
she
won’t eat with us! Not with you and Abid here – says you are not related to her, that it is not allowed.”
    Uncle Ali laughed, his big belly quivering slightly. “Tell her we won’t bite!” Then he shouted through the open door: “Najma-ji, it’s OK, we won’t bite!”
    â€œI know, Ali-bhai, I know!” came the voice from the kitchen. But Auntie Najma didn’t enter the room until all the men had gone. Only then did she hang up her
abayah
and scarf.
    â€œ
Asalaamu alaikum
, honey,” said Auntie Najma, leaning over to fold up the floor mat. “How was your first day?”
    Farhana sat back on her heels and smiled broadly.
    â€œIt was fine,
masha Allah
! Much easier than I expected it to be…”
    â€œThat’s great! And how is Faraz doing?”
    â€œHe seems good, too,” replied Farhana. “We stayed up after
Fajr
actually, read some
Qur’an
together… it was nice…”
    â€œAhh, that sounds lovely,
masha Allah
!” Auntie Najma’s face glowed with pleasure. “So glad to see the two of you getting into it. Did you pray
tarawih
last night?”
    Farhana’s face darkened momentarily. “No,” she frowned. “Dad and Faraz went but Ummerji said I had to stay home and help her in the house.”
    Auntie Najma lifted an eyebrow. “Ah, yes, of course… that mosque is mainly for men, isn’t it?” There was more than a touch of irony in her voice. “But you could still have prayed at home, you know…”
    â€œI guess so, I suppose I was just too upset about not being able to go – I will try to remember that next time though.”
    â€œYou should come with me next time I go,”said Auntie Najma, getting up to put the mats away. “I go to a mosque about 25 minutes from here – they have loads of space for women and the recitation is beautiful.”
    â€œOh, could I, Auntie?” Farhana’s face lit up.
    â€œIn fact, why don’t you come to
iftar
with me this weekend? One of my friends invited me – I met her at uni – I think you would like her… you haven’t really met my friends, have you?”
    â€œNo,” replied Farhana, “but Ummerji is convinced that they are a bad influence – I mean, look at what happened to you!”
    They both laughed good-naturedly.
    â€œSo, will you come?”
    â€œI’m not sure, Auntie. I think I would feel funny meeting your friends. They’re all
niqabis
and
hijabis
, aren’t they?”
    â€œSo?” said Auntie Najma, indignantly. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
    â€œWell, I don’t want them to judge me, you know, cos I don’t wear
hijab…
”
    â€œThat is a load of rubbish! Anyone who judges you without getting to know you isn’t worth knowing in the first place. Besides, my friends are cool, they aren’t like that.”
    â€œYou’d have to ask Ummerji for me. She’ll never let me go otherwise.”
    â€œDon’t you worry, I’ll speak to her. So, it’s a date, is it?”
    Farhana smiled. “I guess so…”
    Auntie Najma winked at her and got up to assess the damage in the front room, where the children were watching TV.
    Farhana smiled to herself, then got up to go to the kitchen.
    As she reached the kitchen doorway, she heard a low but tense-sounding conversation taking place and then her mum’s voice rose above all the others. “Najma has always been selfish, everyone knows that!”
    This was greeted by a chorus of fierce whispers which came to an