Huda was here, p.9
Huda Was Here, page 9
‘Huda! Raheed could choke on these!’ I grabbed the ice-cream bucket from between them and gathered up the rest of the loose marbles scattered around my doona.
I was expecting my baby brother to sook, but he just sat there blinking with his chubby legs crossed over each other.
Huda helped me put the last few marbles in the container.
‘Sorry, Akeal. Don’t be annoyed. I just really need to talk to you.’
‘I figured. So what is it?’ I said as I opened my wardrobe and popped the bucket of marbles on a shelf above my head.
Huda sighed.
‘We can’t go on like this. You know it, I know it. Dad needs to come back,’ she said in a low voice.
‘Yeh, it’s been weird for all of us without Dad, and Mum has been all over the place. But it’s not like we can do much to bring him home.’ I shut my wardrobe door and crossed my arms, waiting to hear Huda’s point.
‘What if I told you there is something we can do. Just me and you.’ My sister’s black pupils swelled to the same size as Bonker.
‘Well, I’d tell you I’d do whatever it takes for Baba to come home and get his job back.’
‘You promise?’
‘Of course I promise! I’d do anything for Dad – especially if I knew we’d all be together.’
Huda lifted herself off the bed and popped Raheed on the floor. Then she turned to face me.
‘Let’s just say this is your lucky day, brother,’ she said, rubbing her hands.
‘Spit it out, Huda.’
‘There’s no more crime around here, right? That’s why Dad got fired.’
I nodded. Huda looked side to side, like she was checking if anyone else was in the room listening – even though she knew it was just us.
‘We show them that they were wrong. We show them that there is crime,’ she said quickly, licking her lips.
‘How? Like we get the statistics?’
‘You idiot! We don’t show them statistics, whatever the heck that is. We become the statistics.’
I frowned, not getting her point.
‘Okay, let me spell it out. We make crime. We do things, here and there, to make everyone think there are criminals on the loose. Then they’ll realise they need security, and beg Dad to come back.’ She rubbed her fingers in the air, almost like she was sprinkling imaginary glitter on my carpet.
I took a step back.
‘No way, Huda! You want us to become bandits? Dad would freak out if he knew we were even thinking about doing the wrong thing.’
‘That’s the beauty of it: Dad won’t know. No one ever will. And I never said we’d hurt anyone or do really bad stuff.’
‘Breaking the law is haram. We could get in trouble with the cops, for heaven’s sake. We could end up in jail!’
‘Firstly, people break the law all the time. Littering is breaking the law, using the vacuum cleaner at night is breaking the law, riding a bike without a helmet is breaking the law! Are you saying all the kids at our school should be arrested for missing the bin?’
‘Well, no …’
‘And you think Mum should be locked up when she vacuums before she goes to bed?’
‘No, of course—’
‘And Omar should be put in jail when he hangs his helmet off his handlebars because he’s worried about his hair going flat?’
‘No, but—’
‘So what’s the big deal?’
‘Yeh, well, it’s different—’
‘No, Akeal. It’s not different. We just do a couple of small, teeny-tiny, harmless things to get people to believe real crims are lurking around. Everyone gets scared. Then voila, they bring Pops back.’ She clapped her hands together.
‘We’d never get away with it.’ I shook my head, still not able to believe what I was hearing.
‘We will. Trust me.’ Huda jabbed me in the chest with her pointy finger.
‘Listen, Huda. We don’t know anything about being criminals. We don’t know how it works.’
‘You’re right, we don’t know. But what we do know are these streets. We know the back ways, the quiet roads and all the footpaths. We also know that life without Dad is miserable. We know we love him. We know we’ll do whatever it takes to bring him back so he’s safe at home with us and not eating two-minute noodles by himself every night.’
Huda was holding up her two fists and looking into space.
I knew my sister was being dramatic, but I also knew she was right. Dad was alone. He needed to be home. And my sister could see me thinking.
‘You said you’d do anything for him. This isn’t anything. It’s just one simple thing.’
I took a deep breath.
‘Okay, Huda, so let’s pretend for a second that we go ahead with this. How would we even do it?’
‘Oh, that’s the easiest bit, brother.’ She paused, smiling, her wide eyes fixed on me. ‘At night. Under the cover of darkness. We sneak out. We cause a bit of mischief and come back home before anyone notices,’ she chirped.
What she was saying sounded easy, but I knew there was more to it.
‘What kind of mischief are you talking about? I don’t want to kidnap anyone.’
‘No, no, no, of course not.’ She giggled and patted me on the cheek. ‘Just basic stuff. I do have some boundaries, you know. We won’t hurt anyone, steal or destroy anything. Nothing seriously haram.’ She waved my question away with her hand.
‘So what if someone sees us?’
‘Don’t worry, I’ve already got that figured out. All you need to tell me is this: do you love Dad enough to bring him home or do you love yourself more?’
‘You know the answer to that question,’ I whispered.
‘Then we start tomorrow night. Be ready at midnight.’ She slapped me on the back twice, then walked out of my bedroom, leaving me with our baby brother.
At the Mosque
I threw on my black hoodie and black beanie, to blend into the dark. It wasn’t as late as normal and it wouldn’t be as safe. But it would be the last prayer of the night at the mosque, and we needed to make sure people would still be around.
After being out for three nights of crime, I knew tonight would be just as cold as the others. Putting on my thick socks, I pulled them as far up my shins as they would go, then quickly laced up my sneakers. Huda had started to call them my ‘Sneaky Sneakers’.
On our first night pushing over the bins, she told me it sounded like she had flappy feet when she ran.
‘You know, Akeal,’ she had said as we walked home silently after being chased by Fluffy Robe Man. ‘Sometimes I think that I might actually be a duck.’
I wasn’t in the mood to think of Huda as a swimming bird, especially after we’d just been chased by a man in bright-green undies. But she kept talking anyway.
‘It’s true, you know. I mean, sometimes I sleep with one eye open. Ducks can do that; it keeps their brains working. Plus, I’m short and I can easily put my head under water, too. And when I run I make a lot of noise, it’s like my feet are slapping the floor. Maybe I should get my feet checked by the doctor to see if they’re actually webbed underneath. What do you think?’
‘Maybe you just need a new pair of shoes,’ I mumbled.
‘Can I have yours?’
‘Mine are too big for you.’
‘But I like your Sneaky Sneakers.’
‘No.’
Headlights beamed down the road towards us, but we had enough time to leap behind someone’s brick letterbox.
‘I think I’ll ask Mum to get me some Sneaky Sneakers like yours. They’re so quiet. But I still think I might be part-duck. That’s why I couldn’t ever eat one. It’d be like cannibalism, you know,’ she whispered, as we had waited for a late-night car to pass.
‘Yep, sounds good,’ I’d told her, hoping to end the conversation. We’d stepped back out onto the footpath and made it home safely under the midnight moon that first night.
Now the sun had just set. Even though it was dark, the world hadn’t settled into bed yet like on the other nights. But luckily, Mum had been getting us all in bed earlier since starting her new job. She was more tired than ever before and made sure that even she was getting her eight hours.
I stepped out onto the patio, where my sister was waiting for me. I realised, watching her slip on her fluffy gloves, that she’d been late to almost everything in her life up until now. Huda was always the last kid in line after recess and the last one in the car when we went shopping with Mum. But I’d never had to wait for her to commit a crime.
‘Did you get them?’ she chirped.
‘Yeh, I got them from the laundry when Mum was in the shower,’ I whispered as we crept down our driveway.
‘How many did you get?’ My sister broke into a skip once we hit the road.
‘Just two.’
‘Two!’
‘Well, there’s only two of us.’
Huda stopped skipping and took a long, deep breath.
‘Really, Akeal, what if one tears? What if we have to double-bag? What if they’re too small? Honestly, how many times have I told you to always, always take more than what you need!’ she hissed from behind me.
I started to jog, knowing she’d catch up. We turned the corner onto the main road, but made our way through the bushes beside the nature strip to stay out of sight. Vehicles whizzed by on the highway.
‘I can’t believe you would only get two …’ she puffed once she was beside me.
‘Listen, the mosque isn’t far from here now. It’s just after the traffic lights up there.’ I pointed towards the shining gold minaret poking out from behind a couple of huge trees.
‘Okay, gotcha, Mr Cheapskate. How long until Isha prayer starts?’
I checked my watch.
‘A few minutes. We need to pick up the pace. Come on.’ I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.
We bounded through the bushes and hurdled over shrubs until we got to the traffic lights. Making sure there was no one around to see us, Huda and me scampered across the three-lane highway just as there was a break in the traffic.
We bobbed down behind a bus shelter and peered out. Across the road, cars had filled the mosque car park. A few parked-car headlights were still on and some men gathered around the main entrance, laughing and chatting. Another entrance, up a set of stairs, had women filing in.
‘So what do we do? There’s too many people around,’ Huda whispered.
‘The athan should start any—’ Before I could finish my sentence the call to prayer blasted out of the mosque speakers. The muathin’s voice sounded as smooth and velvety as thick hot chocolate. He stretched the Arabic words almost like a song, but not quite. I felt my heartbeat slow and warmth fill my belly. Mosque-goers quickened their pace and within thirty seconds, everyone had disappeared inside the fancy blue decorated doors.
Huda leaped out from behind the bus stop.
‘Let’s do this!’ she squealed.
‘Wait!’ I whisper-shouted. I grabbed my sister by the leg and pulled her back down beside me.
‘It’s the call to prayer but it doesn’t mean prayer is starting yet.’
Huda closed her eyes and took a long breath, then turned to me.
‘You do realise that what you said makes absolutely zero sense, right?’ she snapped.
‘What I mean is, it tells people to get inside and get ready but there’s still a few minutes until the iqama.’
‘You’re making words up again, right?’
‘What? Iqama?’
My sister pursed her lips and nodded.
‘No, it’s the second call to prayer! That’s how it goes!’ I tried to explain.
‘How do you know?’
‘Because I go to the mosque with Dad sometimes. I don’t sit on the couch watching TV like you and calling out “pray an extra one for me!”’
My sister jiggled her shoulders and pouted. Then she narrowed her eyes.
‘Well, la di da, aren’t you Muslim of the Year? That was only once, Akeal. I couldn’t just stop watching the season finale of my favourite series, you know!’
I raised my eyebrows and clicked my tongue. ‘Sure, Huda. You’ve been saying it’s the season finale since you were seven.’
‘Whatever. You’re just a grump.’ She turned back towards the mosque just as three more cars pulled in and another group of men and women holding their prayer mats rushed past the bus stop. They scuttled across the road and through the car park, just as the iqama sounded.
I nudged my sister.
‘I make things up, do I?’
‘Okay, whatever. Probably just a fluke. Anyway, just because this shoe thing was your idea, it doesn’t mean I can’t question you. Can we get on with it now, Mr I Know Everything?’
‘Yes,’ I said, feeling smug. I adjusted my beanie so it sat just above my eyes. ‘But where’s your keffiyeh?’
Huda grinned.
‘Oh, tonight I’m going for the …’ She paused and looked up towards the stars, thinking of the word. ‘Religious look.’ She unzipped her jacket and pulled out a crumpled black hijab, flicking it around to shake out the creases. She raised her eyebrows as if to say, I know you’re impressed, then flung it over her unbrushed hair and tied it with one knot under her chin.
‘To be a real criminal, one must be inconspituous,’ my sister said, as though she was lecturing a child.
‘You mean, inconspicuous.’
‘Yes. That is what I mean.’
We jumped out from behind the bus stop and ran across the road to the entrance of the mosque.
Rows and rows of shoes filled metal racks on either side of the wide double door leading into the mosque, and even more shoes sat in neat lines on the ground.
‘Okay, listen up,’ I whisper-panted. ‘You go up to the ladies’ section and stuff their shoes in the bag as quick as you can. I don’t know if the sheik is going to read short or long surahs tonight, so we might only have five minutes – tops.’
My sister nodded. ‘Then what after that?’
‘Only stuff in as many shoes as you can carry. Then drag the bag carefully down and we’ll dump it somewhere not far from here. Not too far, we don’t want people to have to walk home barefoot.’
‘Oh c’mon, that’d be a bit funny.’
‘We’re not here to hurt anyone or steal.’
‘That’s news to me, brother.’
‘Well, you know what I mean. Just bother them enough so that it becomes a small spectacle. Hopefully someone will call the cops. And then they’ll find their shoes. Anyway, enough talking, we’re probably down to four minutes now. Let’s go!’
‘Okie dokie, artichokie!’ Huda ripped the black liner from my hands.
‘Remember, don’t overfill the bag. The last thing we need is for you to hurt your back or have the bag split.’
‘Gotcha!’ My sister raced up the stairs, the plastic bag flailing over her shoulder like a kite in the wind.
I quickly poked my head in through the doors. All the men were standing in their straight lines, their heads bowed, facing the direction of the Kaaba. Everything was still and quiet, except for the voice of the imam leading the prayer. He was reading one of my favourite verses. I couldn’t understand all the Arabic, or even half of it, but I heard the one line that Dad had explained to me last Ramadan.
‘With hardship comes ease …’
‘It means that whatever struggles you’re going through, they’ll always end. Hard moments never last forever,’ I remember Dad telling me.
I knew I was meant to hear that now, standing outside the mosque alone in the dark. Even though I knew what we were doing was wrong, I also knew this wouldn’t last. I wouldn’t be fighting for Dad much longer. He’d be home with us soon.
I forced myself away from the door and pulled out the second liner from my bum bag. As I rubbed the black plastic bag between my fingertips to separate the edges, I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder.
Shoe Explosion
I hoped it was Huda, but I knew it wasn’t.
‘What you doing, ya walad?’ The man’s voice was deep and his fingers dug into my shoulder. I felt my heart stop beating and the blood in my veins go cold. I held my breath, ready to face what was coming. I only hoped Huda could escape. Maybe I could take all the blame for both of us. Maybe this was the way it was meant to end. Me getting caught. Going to jail. And Dad never coming home.
‘Luk, what you doing, boy?’ he repeated in his broken English, his voice rough and impatient. He grabbed my arm and shook it.
The bag slipped from my fingers as I turned around to face him. I lifted my chin and forced myself to focus on the man’s face. His thin moustache and flat eyebrows.
‘Akeal, shoo? Inta okay?’ Uncle Ahmed said.
My teeth chattered before any words could come out.
‘Inta imdayi?’ His words sounded like an echo in my brain, but I felt my heart slowly start beating again. I steadied my voice.
‘No, Uncle. I’m not lost. I’m just waiting …’ I tried to think of who or what I was waiting for but I trailed off.
‘You wait for you big brother Omar?’ he asked.
I nodded quickly.
‘Not safe, ya Akeal. Not safe. Bad criminal in here.’ He used his pointy finger to draw in the air, but not in any particular way.
I nodded again.
Before I could say anything else, he glanced around to see if anyone was watching. Then he bobbed down, so we were almost eye to eye.
‘You dad gone. No good. Very hard.’ His eyes dropped to the floor and he sniffed. I knew he hadn’t finished talking because his lips opened and closed a couple of times, like he was thinking of what to say. But instead he pulled out his chunky leather wallet and unclipped it. I caught a glimpse of crisp green notes folded inside. He carefully pulled out two and shoved them at me.
‘Take. You need. You family need.’
I shook my head. It was too much money to give a kid, even on Eid.
‘Take,’ he grumbled. He held the money to my chest but I kept my hands by my side, not sure what to do. Finally, he pushed the notes into my hoodie pocket and put his finger to his lips.
‘No tell. You keep for you and you sister. Anything you need, you buy.’ He tucked his fat wallet back into his pocket and patted me on the head as he looked out into the dark. Then he straightened his back and sniffed again, before slipping off his shoes and stepping inside the mosque.
