Age 5:  1967 – 68

 

Every day we have Assembly. Every day I hear a story about Jesus, who lived a long time ago. Jesus was a very good man and told everyone to be nice to people. That seems fair to me.

One day we hear the story of the Prodigal Son. I am sitting on the floor with the other children, listening to this. We are told that the Prodigal Son left his father’s house to go to a faraway land, because he thought that he could find a better life. Instead, he fell upon hard times, had to work as a swineherd and was reduced to eating the same food as the pigs. I try to imagine what this must be like. But there’s one thing that I don’t understand. If he was herding pigs, why didn’t he just eat the food from the pigs? This, I know, is Spam, which we are fed at school. I know that eggs come from chickens and milk comes from cows, so I have logically deduced that slices of Spam emerge from live pigs in the same way.

 

 

 

Age 7:  1969 – 70

 

There is a television programme about different religions and one day my mother makes me watch it, because this episode is about Islam. Okay, so now I know that I’m a Muslim and we believe in someone called Muhammad. Well, I bet that Muhammad could beat up Jesus in a fight. Oh, but they wouldn’t fight; they would make peace, because that’s what they’re like. Damn.

How do we know Muhammad didn’t just make it all up? There are so many religions with different beliefs. Only one can be true. How do I know it’s this one? Anyone could just make up a religion. What happens to people who believe in one of the wrong religions? Hey, I’m only seven. I shouldn’t have to worry like this.

 

 

We have a new headmaster, Mr Campbell. He has a soft, dignified manner, a scholarly face and horn-rimmed glasses. He is very fond of classical music. Every morning in Assembly, he tells us some profoundly important moral story, often from the Bible, but not always so. I learn my basic morality from him: kindness, honesty, good deeds, helping others. Every morning he leads us in a prayer, and we pray to God to help us to be good and for nice things for everybody. I know that we Muslims believe in God, so although this prayer in Assembly is a different style from the one that we do in the mosque, I am not uncomfortable about it.

 

 

 

Age 12:  1974 – 75

 

We arrive in Jeddah at night and my father has to negotiate with the Arab taxi drivers to take us to his friend’s apartment. They stand around my father, all talking in animated tones and showing the price using their fingers. They are all asking for five Saudi Rials for this trip. My father disagrees and shows three fingers; three Rials. They persist in showing five fingers; five Rials. My father continues to show three fingers. Suddenly, en masse, they walk away. My father spends a few minutes looking for another taxi driver, with whom he agrees eight Rials. This driver leads us to his car, an enormous gas-guzzling American saloon (sedan) (it’s straight out of Hawaii Five-O).

When we get to our destination, my father’s friend is not home, but his Egyptian neighbour very generously lets us wait in his apartment. His kindness and hospitality are overwhelming. It’s funny that English is our common language. There are many foreign workers in Saudi Arabia, performing jobs at all levels from the most menial, to the most skilled and professional, as most native Saudis don’t work, apparently.

A couple of days later, we travel to Mecca – an hour or so by car from Jeddah. I’m not sure what to expect. Here indeed is the Kaaba, the holiest shrine in Islam, the big cube shrouded in a black sheet. People revere it, and walk around it. It represents God, but it is not God. I am in awe too, but it seems to be an awe that is imposed on me. I don’t know if this is all true or not. Deep within, I know that I shouldn’t be having these thoughts, as God can read my mind and will be very angry.

We spend the day in the great mosque, watching the people come and go. A crippled man appears; he cannot stand upright at all. He shuffles slowly to the Kaaba low down on all fours, like an animal; his gaze is directed at the ground, as he cannot lift his head. His faith, and my questioning, make me feel ashamed.

 

 

 

Age 18:  1980 – 81

 

Later in the day, Auden and Robinson deliberately corner me in a small, quiet, music room and, working together, they scare the hell out of me with their story, including this imminent Rapture, and many accounts of miracles that they have heard of, at second and third hand. Blair Crawford witnesses this meeting through the glass door, but does not come in.

This is a strange, sinister, frightening Christianity they tell me of – not the Christianity I know and am fond of.  They talk about biblical prophecies that have been fulfilled already, proving that others will also come to pass, and that the Rapture is a real event, which will surely happen soon. They talk about the Antichrist. This will be a powerful and charismatic man who succeeds in bringing about global peace but, in so doing, he is really uniting all the non-Believers in order to oppress the Christians.

They say that there is an airline in America which has a secret policy of not assigning Believers as both pilot and co-pilot on any flight, out of concern for those who would be left behind on all the aircraft that would crash after their Christian pilots had been Raptured away. Apparently, it will be possible for those left behind to be saved, by embracing Jesus (when they realise that the Believers were right after all), but they will have to suffer hideously in the Tribulation that will follow the Rapture; non-Believers will torment them to force them to deny their faith in Jesus. Only if they keep to their new faith, even if tortured to death, will they be saved. Eventually Jesus will arrive in a cloud of glory, there will be a huge battle of good versus evil in the Middle East, and the united forces of evil (mostly Muslims, but also Catholics, Hindus, Communists and so on) will be utterly vanquished, falling into the depths of Hell for all Eternity, as their punishment for opposing the will of Almighty God.

I am completely taken aback by all of this. They are saying that peaceful coexistence is not an option; that we are destined to fight a horrible global war between Believers and non-Christians and that this is promised in the Bible. I feebly argue that the Qur’an has incredible scientific facts in it, describing the ‘Big Bang’ and the condensation of stars from gas. Muhammad could not possibly have known about these scientific phenomena, therefore the Qur’an must come from God.

Robinson has a different argument: the Qur’an comes from Satan and its purpose is to mislead people away from being saved by Christianity. I never thought of this possibility. He’s talking about a conspiracy by Satan. I am taken completely by surprise. Their absolute certainty scares me. (I’ve never had such certainty.)

 

 

 

… the Christians are telling me of a more powerful and sinister Satan, a brilliant, deceiving evil genius, who has a massive and highly professional team of agents working for him. He has masterminded many schemes (such as Islam, Buddhism and secular humanism) to mislead people away from their only hope of salvation – belief in the blood-redemption sacrifice of Jesus. The Qur’an, with its amazing scientific facts, is just another clever scam in Satan’s master plan.

America will lead the world in the war against Satan and in the fulfilment of biblical prophecy, which will bring the Rapture ever closer. All of these things they are telling me are already well known in America, they assert with absolute conviction.

Both Auden and Robinson are straight-A students in Science and Mathematics. They can both solve the Rubik cube in under a minute, which is like witnessing a miracle. They are ‘good’ boys, cultured and well spoken; they never use bad language. I am intimidated by their intellects and unsettled by their faith.

                  

 

 

Age 24:  1986 - 87

 

On one occasion, I’m slightly late as, just before the prayer time, I run into a beautiful blonde girl called Dawn Humphries, whom I met at the beginning of semester, and she is just going to lunch and (not knowing anything about Friday prayers) she asks me if I am going to lunch too, which of course I say that I am. After a hurried lunch, I arrive at the lecture theatre gasping for breath, having run across campus; I had gone to the usual place, only to find a sign there that the prayer had been moved to a different hall, all the way across campus.

 

There is a Muslim called Hakim, who is also a postgraduate student in the Chemistry Department. He’s from Dewsbury in Yorkshire, although his ethnic origin is obviously the Indian subcontinent. Hakim starts dominating the Friday prayers; he’s always giving the sermon. And what he keeps saying does not strike me as Islamic at all. He never bothers to talk about love, peace, forgiveness and tolerance; he prefers to lecture on the hellish Afterlife that awaits those who don’t believe and act as he does. Rather than being uplifting (like Mr Campbell’s talks), Hakim’s sermons leave one with a sense of fear and dread. (I don’t remember Mr Campbell ever mentioning Hell, but he still made you want to be good, for its own sake.)

In one sermon Hakim gives a whole speech about the Islamic version of the Antichrist, who is called Dajjal. He lays out all the complex prophecies about Dajjal and what he’s going to do and how he’s going to mislead people with amazing miracles. It’s an Islamic version of the Revelations prophecies about the end of the world, Armageddon, the ultimate fight between the forces of good and evil, and so on. It’s exactly like the dark predictions made by Auden and Robinson back in Hampton School, but it’s the other way around, of course; in this version, true Muslims represent the forces of Good, and everyone else is working for Satan.

It’s all made-up garbage. None of it is in the Qur’an. This is all a sickness; a lot of superstition and prejudice that has wrapped itself around Islam like a cancer. I feel very uncomfortable sitting here, listening to this nonsense.

In another sermon, he expounds that men and women should not mix socially, and he berates those present here today (and they know who they are!) who have been mixing with girls, having coffee with them and so on. I feel uncomfortable. I have coffee with girls all the time. In fact, I’d have more coffee with more girls if only more girls would agree to have coffee with me. This is not Islamic, it is all Arab Wahhabi· cultural baggage; it is not in the Qur’an and it is his personal prejudice, which he is abusing his position to preach. I am so angry, I imagine standing up and walking out. But I don’t do it.

 

Of course, Hakim has very definite views on how women should dress. I disagree. Where in the Qur’an does it say that women must be covered from head to foot? It does not! It requires women to ‘veil their bosoms’ and to ‘guard their modesty’. The Qur’an asks both men and women not to overtly flaunt their bodies purely for the attention of others; what great advice that is in today’s world, where so many people suffer from deep insecurity about their appearance. There is plenty of flexibility to allow for culture and context.

The Wahhabi obsession with covering women from head to toe stems from the need to control women as property and prevent them being sought by other men. This is based on bigotry and deep-seated insecurity, not Islam. The woman’s opinion appears to be irrelevant. Unfortunately, some Muslim women also have become convinced that this is pure Islam, it is not negotiable, and they seek to enforce it puritanically on other Muslim women.

 

Hakim has a very simple view of Life and Afterlife. Whoever lives an absolutely moral and puritan life, defined by Hakim’s standards, will be rewarded with a wonderful eternity in Paradise. Whoever spends their life in the ways of wickedness (i.e. doing anything fun), will face the unbearable flames of Hellfire.

Despite all of Hakim’s nonsense, I feel more confident about Islam than ever. Whatever seems repulsive about Islam, on objective examination turns out not to be Islamic, but cultural contamination. 

 

 

… One Friday, at the prayer meeting on campus, there is a certain buzz of excitement. An Arab man called Faisal is visiting, and apparently he is a renowned and well-known Islamist of some sort (I don’t know how else to describe him.) I’ve never heard of him, but he seems to represent some kind of international Muslim brotherhood. He is in his early thirties and wearing casual Western clothes, with a neat hairstyle and no beard. He doesn’t lead the prayer, but his presence is clearly felt; those who know him seem to project an aura of respect and admiration for him.

Afterwards, a couple of my fellow Muslims say that they are going to visit Faisal tonight at someone’s home in Stirling, and ask if I would like to come. I am intrigued, so I agree.

Hakim looks on with ill-disguised hostility; it is clear as day that he disapproves of Faisal and feels that he has been upstaged in some way…

 

 

… It does sound exciting: the idea that one day everyone will be united in a peaceful and just, global Islamic state. But I have a deeper feeling and it makes me feel ashamed; I should not be having such rebellious thoughts. Although it does not always seem compatible with Islam, I love the heady freedom and excitement of the Western world, just as it is. The Islamic world always seems stern and afraid. I wouldn’t want there to be people like Hakim in every corner of every public place in every country, pointing and shouting, ‘You can’t do that! You will go to Hell!’

If everyone on Earth becomes Muslim, the world might turn into a very sombre place.

 

 

 

Age 25:  1987 – 88

 

One of the Englishmen is Brother Jollian. We chat occasionally. He works for a scientific research company in Cambridge. He tells me about when he decided that he was going to start performing his prayers at the correct time during weekdays, in other words, at work. This would entail performing the preparatory ablution, including the washing of the feet. He was in the men’s toilets and was very tense about it, hoping no one would come in. He had just placed one of his feet in the basin, and he nearly jumped with surprise as the door opened. He wasn’t sure what to do as a colleague came in and saw him washing his feet. He decided to just carry on as if it was nothing out of the ordinary, and his colleague just went about his business. Apparently everyone knew he had become a Muslim and therefore readily understood that his unusual behaviour was due to this.