Always trust allah

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Binded

Intended Audience: 13+ 

“Fatima, can you pick me up from school?” 

I close messages and look back at my homework. There is no way I can take the bus. I 

need to get picked up. I simply have too much homework and the bus takes forever. I wait. 5 

minutes. 10 minutes. Ding! 

“Yea, I will meet you by the flagpole”. 

I breathe out a sigh of relief. My friends look at me with a knowing face. 

“Getting picked up?” 

I nod my head and start to pack up. 

“Alright guys, I’m heading out. I will work on the study guide when I get home. SO not 

ready for that test tomorrow.” 

I hear an echo of goodbyes from my friends and even some saying “Happy early 

birthday!” That’s right. I turn 15 tomorrow. And guess what I want? FOOD. And well, all the 

other great things that come with it. I don’t necessarily celebrate my birthdays, but I do get a 

hug from Mama and Baba and most importantly, my siblings are nice to me for the whole day. 1 2 

Amazing, right? 

After 10 minutes, and a ton of walking, I’m by the flagpole right as my sister pulls in. 

“Hey Fati!” 

I just get a small smile from her with a solemn look on her face. Who pissed in her 

cheerios? I grin and start to climb into the front seat. She probably didn’t get her order on time 

from online shopping. Or, she slept-shopped again. Probably the latter. 

1 Mom 2 Dad 

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“I have so much work to do, I must be dying.” I state with, dare I say, a melancholy tone. 

You can’t blame me though, school sucks. 

She gives me a look that reads, overdramatic much? 

“How was your day at school?” Fatima asks. And she speaks! 

“Same old, same old.” 

After that, we stay silent. I started to play a little game with myself after I got bored 

trying to converse with her. Basically, you just gotta look out the window at the sky and try and 

guess where you are. Suddenly, Fatima interrupts my game. 

“Amira, look up. I need to tell you something.” Okay, well I guess my game is done. 

Bluntly, she says “Mama’s in jail. The police came to our house and they had a search warrant 

and so the house is a mess. When we get home, we need to clean up.” Alright. I knew what this 

was. They got me a cake, didn’t they? I hope they got chocolate. “Yeaaaaaa, alright. What type 

of cake is it? What surprise are you hiding?” She can’t fool me. 

“Amira, I’m not lying.” she says rather harshly. Wow, she is trying hard. Then I look at 

her face. She’s not smiling. Not even a little. I think. Then, I start to become doubtful of my 

conscious and think of the worst-case scenario. Maybe she’s not lying. No, this would never 

happen to me. “Okay, Fatima, sure you’re not. Wait, did Mama make tacos? PLEASE tell me 

she made tacos. Or di-” 

“Amira, I am NOT lying!” We stay in silence for a bit. I can’t comprehend the situation. 

Mama in jail? But, how? 

“What happened? Where is Mama? Is she ok?” 

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She looks at me with a frown. “It’s not just Mama. Our am Mustafa and ammeh Aisha 3 4 

and a couple others of our family were also taken. The police say that the family company was 

involved in some money laundering but it was probably some misunderstanding. I don’t know 

how long they will be in jail for. Dad is calling a lawyer right now.” This can’t be happening. 

Why is this happening? Why? Why God? 

I look out the window outside, hoping I get some comfort from the passing trees. Instead, 

I cry silent tears with the trees as my audience. I stay like that for the rest of the car ride. 

As soon as we get home, I instantly run to the door and open it. I stand for a couple of 

seconds. I feel dazed. Stunned. It’s a mess. The house is an absolute mess. Every cabinet and 

door is opened, every rug thrown, every light on, every window open, everything. I walk to the 

closet with steady steps. I don’t know what to expect. I see every single shoe thrown to the 

ground. My favorite shoes, Fatima’s favorite boots to wear when it snows.....my Mama’s 

slippers that she wears everyday. A mess. I sloppily throw my backpack to the floor and start to 

clean up. First the shoes. Then the jackets. The hats. The scarfs. The books. The bags. Clean 

everything until it looks like it was before I left for school this morning. Like this never 

happened. 

I see Ahmed, my brother, and Fatima cleaning the living room as I leave the closet. I 

can’t take this anymore. I try to escape from my problems but I can’t. The second I enter my 

room I’m reminded of the situation. Just like the closet, huh? Not a stone left unturned again. I 

can’t comprehend how the police officers can be so inconsiderate. What did I do? I pick up my 

clothes as the tears form in my eyes and my vision gets blurry. I sit on the floor and I cry. I cry 

3 uncle 4 aunt 

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for my mama. I cry for my family. I cry because I’m scared. Is my Mama going to stay in jail? 

For how long? Will I have to talk to her through the telephones and a glass window like I see in 

the movies? Will I ever get a hug from her on my birthday again? Will I have to move? Will we 

be able to afford a lawyer? And what about bail? By now I’m crying my soul out. My safe haven 

is gone. I feel like I can’t breath. I feel my heart start to hyperventilate as I take the situation in. 

The tears are salty and my nose is running. I just don’t understand. Why? WHY? 

“Why Allah (SWT)? How could you?” I feel like screaming at God. How could he let 

this happen to me and my family? We are good Muslims. We pray and read the Quran. We never 

drink or smoke. We always follow the sunnah of The Prophet. But what do I know? You can try 

your best and it will never be enough. 

One week later 

My Mama is finally coming home today. We got her bail paid and we have lawyers too. 

They came over yesterday to talk to my Dad. According to them, we are going to be fine. But I 

feel like my family and I are drowning. 

Nevermind about all the negative things, Mama is coming home today! I’ve missed her so 

much. I’ve been so anxious and I just want my mama to tell me that everything will be alright. I 

run down the stairs the moment I hear a car pulling into the driveway. I see Fatima and Ahmed 

sitting with my Jadda by the couches, all waiting for my Mama. 5 

The keys shuffle and I hear a click. She’s home. The door opens and there she is. I don’t 

make a move to hug and kiss her. Instead, I watch her as she approaches my Jadda and hugs her . 

5 grandma 

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They talk for a while. Then cry for a while. In the end I guess we all need the comfort of our 

mothers. After a bit, my Jadda leaves and I can finally talk to Mama without interruption. I tell her 

about how life was without her. How the police trashed the house. How I found out about her 

going to jail. 

“I’ve missed you so much. How have you been, Mama?” 

“Alhamdulillah, I am good now that I am home, I am with my children, I am with my 

family.” My sister and brother started to walk in the living room and sit near my Mama and ask 

her questions about how jail was. 

“The whole time I just prayed to Allah (SWT) that I would get home and look what 

happened. I am home and with my children. I am healthy and I have a roof over my head. During 

this time we must stay very close to Allah (SWT). This was simply a test to see if we will stay 

with Allah (SWT) during this stage of our life.” 

I didn’t understand. How could God let this happen in the first place? Why do we need to 

be tested? We are good muslims! 

“I don’t understand Mama. Why would Allah (SWT) do this to us in the first place?” My 

Mama looked at me. That look meant a lesson was coming my way. 

“As muslims, we must trust Allah (SWT). We are only human. We do not know 

anything and everything. We do not know what will happen in the future but Allah (SWT) 

knows. God knows what is best for us. We need to have Iman strong enough to believe that 

whichever path God has chosen, is the right one. What is happening right now is a test to see if 

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we will stay by Allah (SWT) when we struggle and deal with hardships . Inshallah, if we stay by 

Allah (SWT) during these hard times, Allah(SWT) will make our lives better in the hereafter.” 

I guess she is right. 

“How's our am Mustafa and ammeh Aisha?”Ahmed asks. 

“Your ammeh Aisha was released from jail after the first night. Your am Mustafa, 

however, is still there. He could be there for awhile. I won’t be able to see him either when he 

gets out.” I immediately notice the pain in her eyes when he speaks about her brother. I try to 

imagine not seeing Ahmed for so long. He's my annoying brother, but he will always be my 

brother. I look down in disappointment. My ammeh Aisha is Mama’s cousin and I’m dismayed 

that my Mama won’t get to see her. But my am Mustafa is Mama’s brother and we see them 

every Friday after school. My whole family goes to my Jaddas house to eat and talk.... My am 

Mustafa makes the best lamb kabobs ever. I have so many good memories of me and my cousins 

fooling around. Our world is crumbling. The foundation of our family has been shattered. 

Fatima decides to speak up and break us out of our sadness, “So, how was it? Were the 

cells small? How was it like to finally live on the wild side?” 

“The cells are small. The jail was very dirty. People were always screaming. The whole 

time I was just praying. When I left, they put on this tracker though. It's a bit uncomfortable.” 

Mama continued to talk about her experience there and I stayed to listen to everything she had to 

say. I guess the saying ‘you never know what you have until it's gone’ really applied to my life 

the past week. I missed her so much. This past week felt like an eternity. 

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Two weeks later 

I slowly climbed out of my room and tried to listen to what the lawyers and my parents 

were talking about downstairs. I tried to use my super monkey ninja skills and of course, they 

worked. “Will you be able to ask when I get this tracker off?” 

“I think I can ask the Judge tomorrow but it's usually supposed to stay on for two months. 

I ca-” 

“What are you doing?” 

I turn to the direction of the voice and sure enough, there is my sister, looking at me like 

I’m the weird one. Puh-lease. Wait, how did I not notice her? Super monkey ninja skills 

are failing me! 

“Nothing!” 

She looks at me unamused. The gig was up. 

“Go to your room.” 

A few hours later I finally hear, “Thank you, have a safe drive home,” and a door close. I 

make my way downstairs to the kitchen to ask Mama how it went. You can’t blame me, I’m a 

curious cat. I snicker at my own thoughts and try and use my super monkey ninja skills again to 

sneak up on my mama. I slowly enter the kitchen and spot mama. Target spotted. Move in for the 

kill. As I saunter towards her, I see her rubbing her ankle, right where the tracker is. My eyes 

burn and instead of scaring her, I decide to go upstairs. I get to my room and close the door. My 

poor Mama. She doesn’t deserve this. I wish she never had to go through this. I look at the 

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Ja-nammaz and make my decision. For the next 20 minutes or so, I pray to Allah (SWT) to help 

me and my family out, and to get the tracker off for my Mama. 

Three weeks later 

Mama just left for court, or as I like to call them, her bi-weekly checkups. The lawyers 

are finally going to ask if she can get her tracker off. I really hope she can. It's been three hours 

since she left and I am out of stuff to do, or at least I am too anxious to do anything. The doorbell 

rings and I run downstairs. Flinging the door open, I am disappointed. It’s just Fatima. 

“Did mama come home yet?” 

“Does it look like she came home yet?” Dumbhead. 

“Don’t give me that attitude.” 

“Yea y-” 

The doorbell rings again and I rush to see Mama there. “Asalam Mama!” She gives me a 

hug and greets me. Fatima and I follow her around the kitchen, both wondering the same 

question. “Did you get it off?” 

She looks at us and smiles saying, “Yea, Alhamdulillah”. Huh, so praying worked. 

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One year later 

“Asalam mama, how was work?” I ask her as she walks through the door. “It was good, 

pretty slow. How was school?” 

“The same as always.” I hear the door open and watch as my am Mustafa comes through 

the doorway. 

“Asalam, how are you Amira? Where is your mama?” 

“I'm good, and she's in the kitchen.” 

It’s been a year since Mama was taken to jail. The case is still going on but there are less 

restrictions. My mama just went to Saudi Arabia a month ago so yes, she can travel now. She has 

a job, although it is not the same one as before. My am Mustafa and my mama still aren't back to 

working in the family company. Life isn’t totally normal like before, but it’s pretty close. I make 

dua everyday to keep my family safe and together. In fact, we just had our weekly family 

gathering last Friday. With all my ams and ammehs and cousins. The best part was that my am 

Mustafa made lamb kabobs. Just like always. 

Throughout this ongoing journey, I’ve learned many things. But one thing that I always 

keep in mind is to have faith in Allah (SWT). This won't be the only challenge I will face 

throughout my lifetime. I just have to stay close to Allah (SWT) and ask for help. Sometimes, 

you just have to trust the process. 

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Written Statement 

Muslims across the world have had their names tarnished and labeled unstable, terrorists, 

and overall bad people. This is exemplified by the media, stereotypes, people’s reactions to 

muslims, and the human rights violation happening to muslims across the world. 

When thinking about what to write for my short fiction, I wanted to write a piece that 

evoked emotion within everyone that came across it. I wanted to base my story off of something 

that brought tears to my eyes but also my hope so I decided to base my story off of the Uighur 

muslims. When I first learned about what was going on in China, my heart went out the suffering 

muslims. No one deserves what goes on in those hellish camps. I had done some more research 

on the situation and what had led up to the circumstances now. I had discovered that the Chinese 

government and others have never had the best relationship. With that, came the extra 

surveillance of these muslims which escalated to a police town. Muslims started to disappear and 

were held in detention camps, even though they had done nothing wrong. What goes on in these 

camps is horrifying and one of the biggest human rights violations the world has ever seen. I 

hope everyday these muslims can trust Allah (SWT) and make it out of these camps alive and 

with their faith. 

I want to relate my short fiction piece to what the Uighurs were experiencing, however, I 

want the reader to think about my story and think, “This could happen to me too.” Besides the 

Uighurs, I also want to relate my story to other muslims across the world and what they may be 

going through. My story was inspired from an article about muslim representation in jails that I 

had stumbled on a while ago. According to the article, state-prisons in the U.S are starting to 

become filled with muslims. However, something that I had noticed was that these muslims had 10 

not let go of their faith during their hard times. They continued to do their daily prayers and 

follow Islam. I thought that this theme, Trusting The Process: Contentment Through Adversity, 

had really resembled what these muslims were going through. 

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