Of all places Dubai is where the transition began. The Muslim country that has no substance, spirituality or security (if you don’t have a job get out!).
It was very hot, nothing new there then. I was showering morning; noon and night which meant my hair had to be tamed three times a day! NIGHTMARE!!
All women know what havoc the humidity causes to their locks; now imagine if you have curly hair!! Do I have sympathy from all the ladies?
I affectionately call the mess that resides on my head ‘the vileda mop gone wrong’.
No amount of Frizz Ease is helping matters. John Freada has obviously had no experience with Asian frizzy hair because trust me this is a whole new global amusement.
In Star Trek speak ‘It’s frizz gentlemen but not as we now it!’.
Thanks to my MS I have had to have eight doses of chemotherapy which means I have lost more than half of my hair.
This should have made life easier but what remains is a frazzled and dry bush with streaks that need the roots doing!
For anyone who thinks surely it can’t be that bad, trust me its worse.
I was at the end of my tether so much so that I started to wear a scarf.
Well that was it, the answer to my predicament came in the form of a piece of material!
Gone were the bad hair days! The weird thing was I really liked it. It actually suited me and once the Jabah was on I looked like a local! All the time I was there it remained firmly pinned on.
On my return I took off the scarf, don’t get me wrong the hair was still a mess but was passable.
I was back from Dubai for a week and a half before my trip to India.
I was running, I mean hobbling, around Whalley Range doing my last minute jobs for the charity event that I had organised.
In one of the shops I visited on a regular basis the assistants said he wanted to say something and hoped I would not take offence.
He commented on my attire or should that be the missing item not supported. He said he admired the work I was doing as a disabled person but I really should cover my head.
I instantly jumped to my defence declaring I prayed five times a day as required and even prayed the Quran on a daily basis.
The man praised this but said I would be questioned for not covering my head as it was a compulsory.
I again attempted to justify myself ‘I might not be wearing a head scarf but at least Iam decently covered, I am wearing loose clothing and nothing is showing. What’s better to dressing like this without a head scarf or covering your head whilst wearing jeans that fit like a second skin and a top that leaves nothing to the imagination’?
He replied that she would be questioned about this on the day of judgement but at least she was fulfilling the requirement of the head scarf which meant that it is one less thing to answer for.
Sometimes someone says something and it really affects you, for the first time I saw it differently. I had been asked to cover my head by various people but always said ‘Inshallah when I’m ready’.
I never thought the day would come while I still had brown hair! I would admire and secretly envy the women who wore the head scarf‘s as they had the confidence to openly display the fact they were Muslim.
When I got home I was overtaken by a desperate need, the likes of which I had never experienced, to cover my head. I put on my scarf and called my mum.
My parents had never acted like dictatorial disciplinarians commanding the wearing of the head scarf.
Me and my sisters were the few girls who got to school in the same state as they had left home as many girls ran into the toilets removing their head scarf whilst applying their makeup!
I would cover my head in Ramadan as a mark of respect for the holy month as fasting was impossible due to the MS.
When I would go to town I felt that people reacted quite unfriendly and not as helpful as when I was scarf less.
Having gone to town the other day I can honestly say there is no difference in people’s reaction.
Because I was not comfortable wearing it in the past i was behaving and feeling awkward.
It’s been about a month that i have worn it and to be honest i don’t even notice it’s there anymore. I am still the lively, bubbly, chattering Sarvat that is me.
The reaction from fellow Muslims has been a surprise. I have for many years been someone who practises my faith but now thanks to a cloth on my head it works as a visible statement that says I am a Muslim and am practising my faith.
What twisted irony, the head scarf was once used to aid me in my quest to impress, vanity.
Now it is worn in the true essence of what it stands for modesty. Allah Subhanatallah works in mysterious ways.
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