Through the White Picket Fence -S Hafreth PART 1 “And it may be that you dislike something while it is good for you; and it may be that you love something while it is bad for you. And Allah knows while you do not know.” Al Quran 2:216 Unit #23 Umairah Hassan didn’t think much of the housing spaces here in Qld Australia. Let alone the sizes of the rooms and pantry space in a typical suburban unit or townhouse, the gap between neighbouring houses was so minimal, that on a relatively quiet evening, she could hear the tinkling of the cutlery form neighbour X’s kitchen when they opened their kitchen drawers! But she tried to wave that little annoying bug of thought from her mind. Her husband worked in the Government transport office downtown and they earned just enough to live simply yet happily. Jibrael, their three year old son went to daycare once a week whilst Umairah worked-as she loved to defiantly say it- as a live-in departmental and domestic liaisons manager, to her modest house and equally modest family. She owned an ipod which had all the surahs of the Quran stored in it from ten different Qaris. Her favourite was Mishary Rashid al Afasy. However she did not play the melodious recitation of the Quran on her loudspeakers for fear of her neighbours hearing it and lodging a complaint. The rules in this land were strict and one could not operate a vacuum cleaner or lawn mower between 7pm and 7am. However, in the first three months that they had moved in, Umairah discovered that Unit #25 on her immediate right was a house full of boisterous 20-something partygoers. Friday and Saturday evenings, and eve of holidays were likely times for them to crank up the volume on their stereo and party well into the night. But, it angered and saddened her that no one complained, yet, the media had portrayed Islam so negatively that to even consider listening to the Quran on her home theatre system made her think twice. But since playing Surah Baqara every day after Fajr and Maghrib had been a long standing habit of hers, she began on it without further ado. And during the day she would carry her laptop to the kitchen where she would listen to sermons while chopping onions for lunch, or concentrate on live streaming audio Tajweed lessons on her headphones while the child napped and she vacuumed the place. So the days passed by until Umairah glanced out her study window through the white picket fence that separated her house from number 26, and didn’t feel afraid for doing the right thing. Unit 25 Carmen ‘Caramel’ Rickerson was twenty five, honey blond and living life to the fullest. All her life she had been known as the beauty and the brains and she proved it by pursuing a degree in marine biology during the day and knocking down two or three shots at the pub by night. Her skin and voice rippled true to her name and she flaunted what she called her ‘God –gifted’ curves and lines, without ever knowing who God really was. When she met her latest boyfriend, Andy Miller, she decided she was ecstatically in lust with him and his don’t-care party attitude, that she might even keep him hanging around for a while. It was while she was rousing from the depths of a humongous hangover one Saturday morning, that she stumbled over to the washroom and happened to glance out the window. Through the white picket fence, she could make out the back of a petite lady hanging clothes on the line, a little boy of about three or there about scuttling at her feet on a trike. She squinted through bleary eyes for she saw an animal print cloth wrapped about the woman’s head, but she was too delirious, so she stumbled out of the washroom and back into bed again and didn’t think any more of the incident. It was evening around six, when the soft drones of some chanting wafted into the house. There was a light wind that day and their windows were open as it was still Summer. Andy was fiddling about the stereo, while his housemates Josh and Carter were out buying supplies for a barbecue that they were setting up for later that evening. Caramel was dressed in Andy’s oversize shirt and her tights, and her sensuous hair was rolled back in a loose bun. She felt happy and light on the surface but deep down her degree was poking into her mind. She couldn’t afford this life if she meant to study seriously. But she was having fun, wasn’t she? All work and no play makes Caramel a dull girl! She loved the way Andy’s friends raised their brows appraisingly at her, and how their girlfriends tried to hide their jealousy at how well her clothes hugged her curves and the light shone off her skin. She was happy. She needed this. It was like a vitamin to her tired brain. She sighed and stood up, yawning, as she made her way to the washroom to have a soak before the party that evening. That was when she heard the chanting-louder this time. The next day after another round of drinks and merrymaking between the sexes, Caramel found out from Josh that a family of ‘Muzzies’ lived next door, and she clenched her teeth in disgust. “Terrorists!” she said to Andy. “You live right next to them? I wish you didn’t!” “But they mind their own business, baby,” he said. She shook her head. She didn’t know what to say because she had nothing to say about them except that she hated Muslims or ‘muzzies’ and she didn’t even know why.