What is that?

A quick trip to our local cheap market called Souq Al-Shati in the north of Jeddah for some head scarves for the kids. As we stand at one stall negotiating a price for a pack of head scarves my attention falls on this pack of liquids.

As I watch my wife negotiating away I start dreaming about a nice jelly dish. How nice of the vendor to have pre-made jelly for parents to take home as a simple treat for the kids.

'Excuse me what is this?' I inquire just making sure that it was jelly before agreeing to buy it.

'That's ...' he pauses for a moment and then continues in Urdu, 'not for you, it's for black people.'

My dreams about jelly vanish into thin air, 'It's what?' the rise in my voice goes unnoticed and my wife is still busy with the head scarves but her attention has shifted to the neatly arranged box of liquids.

'African people use it to lighten their skin.' he continues folding the open head scarves in a matter of fact way oblivious to my concern.

I recall a story of a man who ran a shop in London and was arrested by the Health and Safety officers for selling illegal products to lighten the colour of skin. The man was taken to court and the judge found him guilty and charged him over a hundred thousand pounds. His lawyer was about to appeal for leniency when he found his client the guilty business man was already leaving his chair. A cheque for the amount lay on the table. The lawyer ran to his client and said, if you give me a moment I can try and appeal for leniency.

The business man shrugged his shoulders telling him not to worry he was making much much more than this. Skin care products was one of the most lucrative items possible. Especially the ones full of illegal and very potent steroid creams. Steroid creams in the long term are known to damage skin by thinning it irreversibly. But the combination of money and vanity are symbiotic.

Fidgeting

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

The young man had been fidgeting quite a lot during the Maghrib prayer. He had managed to remove his watch from his pocket and strapped it on, checked the time and bent down to straighten his socks to mention a few of his movements. As the imam concluded the prayer, I hesitated, should I try and say something? Could I overcome the language barrier? Would a few words put this young man off praying in the masjid again? The questions revolved around in my brain when I extended my hand in salaam.

I first asked if he spoke English. He looked at me blankly the smell of a recently smoked cigarette wafted over me as he exhaled with his face turned towards mine. I paused and then launched into my faltering Arabic, hoping the young man's classical Arabic was up to scratch.

A man builds a beautiful house. Once it is complete he enters it and begins to destroy it, he wrecks the door then the windows and then the walls. What do you think of this man - sensible or crazy?

He smiled shaking his hand in the air indicating the man had lost his mind.

You are like a man building a house, you came all the way to the masjid, made wadu, stood in front of Allah, then when you entered into your house, the prayer, you began to wreck it by your excessive movements. I stopped.

His teeth broke through his lips as his smile widened, his right hand met mine in a strong handshake, "Jazakallahu khairan (may God reward you)".