Chapter Eight: Answer (Part Two)

It was a quarter past twelve when Nadiah was down to her last household chore for that morning. The sun peaked at its highest seemingly to narrow at her as she raked the fallen and withered leaves together in a mass. She hoped the wind wouldn't come and mess up the pile she had managed to collate as she needed to leave for Zainab's home quickly. Satisfied with her neat porch, she let the bamboo broom lean against the wall of the bath house, did wudhu (ablution) before running up into her room where she prayed Zohor.

"Mak!(Mother) I'm leaving for Zainab's for a while," She called out, stacking the prayer garments on her desk and pulled a scarf over her head.

"Alright! Be back before Asar prayer, tonight's Malam Jumaat! (Night of Jumu'ah {Friday night})" came the reply from her parents' bedchamber. Knowing her mother, she was probably folding laundry or reading at this time of the day.

Nadiah stopped in front of the small mirror in the living room. She bent down slightly and adjusted the fabric accordingly while saying, "Tell Ayah (Father) I finished sweeping the leafs. He should burn them now and quickly, before the wind comes."

"Alright. Aren't you going to leave?"

"I am!" She said, her heart skipping a beat when she caught sight of the time. It was already one o'clock and she had to hurry in order to be back before four-thirty. She took fast strides to her front door and down the steps, slipping her tiny feet into her slippers. "'I'll be back soon. Assalamualaikum. (May peace be upon you)"

Nadiah speed walked to Zainab's residence; taking the back route, passing by other kampung (village) houses along the way. The ground was uneven, ladened with scattered rocks, twigs, branches and potholes. She treaded carefully along the narrowed path while still keeping her pace. Up ahead where the dirt road ended was a small partition in between two trees revealing the backyard of yet another house.

She emerged from the woods and headed to the third house on her right. She saw Zainab behind the laundry line; using her two hands to squeeze out the excess water from the damp clothing and fluffing it before flipping it over the line. Zainab's mother, Makcik (Auntie) Asma, sat on the open veranda, peeling bananas and tossing them into the bowl in front of her. Baking supplies and a small pile of banana leaves surrounded her. She looked up just as Nadiah was about to call out the salam.

When their eyes met, Nadiah broke into a smile. "Assalamualaikum!"

"Walaikumsalam Nadiah!" The woman replied, a broad smile stretching from ear to ear. She called her daughter. "Zainab, Nadiah's here. "

Upon seeing Nadiah, Zainab too broke into a grin. She then hastened to finish hanging the rest of the laundry.

"Did you come alone? How's your mother? " Makcik Asma asked after Nadiah had salam-ed her.

"Yes, Mak is well, alhamdulillah," Nadiah answered just as Zainab joined them. "Makcik, is it alright if I take Zainab for a walk? I promise we won't be long."

"Oh, go right ahead!" The woman waved them off. "And not to worry, you girls take your time."

"Thank you!" Nadiah said, taking her right hand in hers and swooped down to salam her once more while Zainab pecked her mother's cheek.

"Bye Mak!" Zainab said, already holding on to Nadiah's arm.

Nadiah reassured. "We'll be back soon, InsyaAllah!"

The two friends scampered off together hand-in-hand to their favourite spot by the river where they always had their long heart-to-heart conversations.

"Out with it!" Zainab ordered, letting go of Nadiah's hand when they reached the wooden bridge underneath which the river flowed. "I can tell something's up for you to have come all the way. Especially when we are going to meet at the surau(mosque) tonight."

"Well...I," Nadiah paused briefly. "I... received a marriage proposal." She finally blurted out, the words felt strange on her tongue.

Zainab's round eyes widened. "From who? Abang Maa'rof?"

It was Nadiah's turn to stare in disbelief at her friend. Why of all the village bachelors her friend thought him, she had no idea. "What? No! I would be the last girl he would think of marrying." Then she turned her head, muttering softly, " Or rather, even if I am the last girl left on the planet and there are no other available girls, he wouldn't even want to marry me."

Her heart hurt because she knew she was most probably right. Maa'rof's refusal to acknowledge her bothered her. She felt Zainab's hand on her shoulder. "Don't say that, " she reassured. "I'm sure there are plenty of men who wants to marry you. So tell me who proposed?"

Nadiah raised her head. In a weak voice she said, "Harun."

"Harun?" Zainab repeated. "As in Harun bin Yahya?"

"Yes. I don't know what to do, Zainab! I have to give my answer on Monday."

"Did your parents tell you to marry him?"

Nadiah shook her head. "My parents leave it up to me to decide. But from what I heard - the way they responded to his parents - it seems like they're agreeable and fond of him. Mother said something about him being the heir of their family business..."

"So they want you to marry a rich man?"

"I don't know. Maybe. She said I have the right to make my own decision and they will follow what I will."

"But how do you find him?"

"He makes me uncomfortable," Nadiah answered honestly. "I can't see him as my husband. I can't even imagine spending the rest of my life with him. It's too hard for me to welcome the idea and I don't even know whether I'm able to bring myself to love him. "

Although Zainab was silent, Nadiah knew she was listening. " If you were me, what would you do? Would you marry him for his wealth? For stability's sake?"

"I honestly don't know. Mother said it would be good if I could marry one as I would have a good and secured life without having to lift a finger." She shoved her calloused fingers to Nadiah. "See these hands? It's so rough and not lady like at all."

She held up Nadiah's hands and felt the texture. "Hey, how come yours is smoother?"

Nadiah looked down at her own hands. "It is still coarse though. "

Releasing them, Zainab turned to gaze at the river.

"Anyhow, of course it would be nice but realistically speaking, how many rich bachelors are there? And you know, wealth isn't everything and it doesn't guarantee happiness. Your husband may be rich one day but if Allah SWT (God) takes that fortune away, he will be poor the next. I think what's important is compatibility, his character and Deen. (religion; how religious he is)

Everything else is secondary. I would look at those aspects first and of course I would ask my parents' opinions. If I'm pleased with him and so are my parents, most likely I'll marry him. And then there's also Allah SWT. Our spouses, like our deaths, is already written and determined by Him. As to how we know who is the right one, you should pray Salah Istikhara every night before you go to bed for guidance. Keep doing that for the next few days and soon you'll know either through a dream or in your heart what's the best decision."

***

Half an hour to Asar prayer, Nadiah stepped foot into the premises of her home. Billows of white smoke soared to the heavens while her nose picked up the smell of burning. She saw her father standing before an open fire. Flames gnawed on the leafs she had previously swept, shredding them into ashes. Hassan goaded more leaves into the fire using a stick. Only when her footfalls were audible was when he spun around.

"Did you just arrive, Nadiah?"

"Yes Ayah," said Nadiah, reaching for his hand to salam. Once he let go, he motioned towards the veranda. They settled down on the wooden platform.

He poured tea into a glass and passed it to her before pouring one for himself. He pushed the plate of Jemput-Jemput pisang (Banana fritters) to her slightly. "Have some, your mother had just fried them."

They sat in a comfortable silence while drinking their teas and sampling the fritters. The flames were already slowly dying with only little sparks of it could be seen. Having not much of an appetite, her chewing came to a slow. As yummy as the fritters were, she couldn't fully appreciate the cake. Her mind was clouded with Zainab's advice. Her best friend was spot on and she could not have agreed more. But....what about her parents? Would they be disappointed if she was to turn Harun down? Was stability and finance the only thing to determine a happy marriage?

Noticing his daughter had stopped nibbling, Hassan said, "Are the fritters not to your liking? Your mother would be disappointed to know that."

"No, no, it's fine," she said, and quickly offered an excuse. "I'm still full from lunch that's all."

Setting his cup down, Hassan pulled out some roll paper and a matchbox. He lined a piece with some tobacco and rolled it into a stick. Putting one into the corner of his mouth, he started striking a match. Nadiah observed the whole process in interest even though she was not a smoker nor was she fond of the smell.

"Has your mother spoken to you about the marriage proposal?" He asked when he tipped the soot into his-now empty glass.

"Yes, she did..."

"That's good, I hope you think through it carefully," he said before taking another puff. "Because this is a life-changing matter."

After a moment of silence, Nadiah braved herself to ask. "Ayah, do you think I should marry him because he's rich?"

Hassan looked at her oddly for a moment. "No. Where did you get that idea from?"

"Well...I thought, you and Mak would love for me to marry him because of his family business."

"Nadiah," Hassan said, giving her a soft look. He mashed the end of the cigarette in his glass. "I'm not that kind of father. Your sisters married the person of their choice. All of my daughters: Normah, Nadra and you; all of you have the freedom to choose. Your mother and I do not want to intervene nor do we want to set standards and tell you what we expect in a son-in-law. We aren't going to tell you 'Marry this man' or 'he must be rich' or ' he must be Malay'. No. Bayu, Kakak Nadra's husband, isn't Malay and he isn't well to do either. "

Nadiah's jaw fell. "Really? Abang Bayu isn't Malay?"

At that Hassan smiled warmly and pinched her small nose. "No, he's Javanese. Didn't you noticed he had a little accent when he spoke?"

She shook her head slowly, feeling dumb to not know that after all these years. Hassan averted his gaze to the front again before speaking," He was among the few sailors who I hired and we set out to sea together for three years before he asked me for her hand. She agreed and I gave them my blessings. He was a humble and hardworking worker and one who never left his prayers.

So long you are happy with him and confident that he's the one you want to spend the rest of your life with, we are fine with it. The only thing we ask is that you make sure you both are compatible and that he's someone of good character. I don't want any of my daughters' marriage to end in a divorce or be victim to domestic abuse.

Just like Bayu, it doesn't matter if he isn't rich. So long he is hardworking and isn't lazy, I'm happy; because I know my daughter would be in good hands. Money is only a worldly possession. We all will return to Him one day - and when we do - we won't be bringing our riches with us but will instead be clothed in the white shroud and that is it. There's only two things that we will bring with us to our graves: Amalan (acts of worship; performed during one's lifetime) and Taqwa (piousness, fear of God, love of God and self-restraint) "

Listening to her father, Nadiah felt relief easing into her heart. She didn't feel obligated to marry Harun - or any wealthy man for that matter - nor did she had to conform to society's expectations. Her father and Zainab were both right. Gratitude filled her heart and her entire body. Thankful to God for blessing her with great parents.

He continued, " Tell you what, why don't you go read the stories of the prophets and the prophet's companions? Read about their lives maybe then you might be able to find the answer you're looking for. As a head start, you might want to check out the story of Prophet Muhammad (SAW) and his first wife, Siti Khadijah (RA)."

In the distance, the outcry of the Azan was heard making Nadiah turn her head.

That's when Hassan took the opportunity to pinch his daughter's nose again just as he had always done, making her let out a squeal of surprise. It was a shared affection between them.

"Ayah!" She protested but she was smiling while a chuckle erupted from his belly.

"Go perform your wudhu (ablution) first. We'll pray together with your mother. I'll clear these." He began to arrange the glasses into the tray and disappeared into the kitchen.

***

A/N: Additional info or you can say fun facts.

Arranged marriages is a cultural thing and isn't part of Islam. Muslims don't necessarily have to get married to their parents' choice and they could find their own spouse. A woman has a right to reject the marriage proposal and cannot be forced to marry against her will. Forced marriages are haram (unlawful/forbidden) in Islam.

In Islam, everyone is equal regardless of skin colour, race, status in society, nationality, wealth etc. And women are equal to men. Nadiah's parents are good, practicing Muslims who follow Islam correctly.

Javanese is an Indonesian ethnic group. (There are other groups such as Batak, Boyanese etc) Most Malays would have some Indonesian ancestry. Even I do :)

Any questions? Feel free to ask me! ^_^

Do note that I am NOT a Muslim scholar. I'm just a normal muslim girl who knows some stuff about Islam and is still learning more because it's vast. So if any of you found anything wrong, please let me know. I'm only human so I might slip up.

Thank you so much for reading! ❤