Khadijah's Journey

She looked at me, this bright-eyed stranger, a slight smile on her lips and hope written all over her face. "Can I call you Ummi?" **

Holding back tears that were beginning to well, I responded with a motherly hug, big and warm, and in a barely audible voice answered, "Of course you may, dear."

She arrived with two others, all similarly garbed in austere black jubah (robes). They were friends of Nawwar from her Arabic and Islamic classes. I had met the other two before but this was my first meeting with purdah-clad Khadijah.

With Pak Abu away at golf and no other male members of the family around, off came the veils and the robes to reveal the modern dressing within. And such pretty faces too!

When she first stepped foot inside my house over the weekend, I didn't know what to make of this open-faced, light-skinned young woman who spoke in a strange mix of accented English and a hodge-podge of Malay in the dialects of Perlis, Pattani and Champa.

I had worked with the Thais long enough to hazard a guess at her mother tongue from that familiar singsong lilt. She could very well be Cambodian or Vietnamese, but my money was on her being Thai.

As it were, I was spot on. Her speech was punctuated with Thai words I could still recall from my TAT (Tourism Authority of Thailand) days. And she squealed with delight when I offered "chan phut thai nit nuay." (I speak a bit of Thai).

Khadijah, one of three siblings, was Bangkok-born and bred to a Chinese father and a Thai mother. In a staunchly Buddhist country, the family were practising Hindus.

Khadijah said she had a conventional and happy childhood. But things began to change when her sister converted to Islam very much against family wishes, married an Arab and followed him home to Bahrain.

Seeking a better life, Khadijah too packed up and headed for Bahrain. Despite being in Arabia and surrounded by Islam, she wasn't in the least interested in the religion and resisted with all her might her sister's numerous attempts to make her a Muslimah.

The subsequent loss of her passport and visa, however, had Khadijah cowering in her sister's home for months. The fear of being discovered without a valid travel document and the constant threats of deportation eventually took its toll on her.

Khadijah revealed the wave of anguish became so excruciating one day that she felt as though her heart was being torn asunder. In desolation she cried out, beseeching Divine help, after which she collapsed in a heap of tears.

To her total surprise, a miracle happened the very next day, said Khadijah. Cops came over to the house, bringing the missing document which had somehow been been found and returned by person/s unknown.

Although she was subsequently deported, for failing to report the loss and for overstaying, Khadijah said the return of her precious passport had somehow sown a small seed of faith within her. "I asked for God's help and He helped me, Ummi," said the girl tearfully.

Khadijah's return was heartbreaking. Where she had expected a joyful reunion, there was coldness instead. Her decision to embrace Islam did not sit well with her parents. Harsh words were exchanged and she was asked to leave.

The subsequent years saw her eking out a living as a tourist guide in Bangkok, where she met and eventually married a guy from Satun, Southern Thailand. Unfortunately it didn't last; she asked to be divorced upon learning he wasn't a practising Muslim.

"I needed someone to lead me, Ummi, not just a husband but a good husband who could teach me Islam. He was not that person as I found out later," mused the 29 year-old ruefully.

She later made her way south to Malaysia where friends put her in touch with Perkim, the country's official body that deals with matters pertaining to recent converts. Not long after, through the good office of Ustaz Haji Hussein Yee, founder of Islamic NGO, Al-Khadeem, Khadijah was absorbed into Al-Khadeem to study Islam and the Quran in a more structured manner.

In return for food and shelter, she helps run Al-Khadeem's orphanage for girls. The women of Al-Khadeem, Awwa and her fellow students in particular, spoke highly of Khadijah's deep commitment, both to her studies and to her charges at the orphanage.

I asked Khadijah about her family. "I went home once, Ummi, and managed to see my kid brother. My parents weren't around at the time. When they returned and saw me, they got angry and asked me to leave."

She added: "My sister too received the same treatment. She came home all the way from Bahrain, but they didn't want to see her."

Khadijah's inner strength was remarkable. "I miss my family, Ummi, and I pray everyday for God to open their hearts to accept us back. But I love Islam more and I will do what I can to become a better Muslim."

At this juncture, I was desperately reaching out for a wad of tissues myself. Now I fully understood why she needed to call me Ummi...

**Ummi - 'mother' in Arabic
PS: I was told, by Awwa and the rest, that Khadijah reads the Quran beautifully, despite having been a Muslim for just over two years and learning the Quran even later ....