F. Dostoevsky
And the God created a human in the image and likeness of himself. And I
fell in love with the God. To be more precise, in his personification in a
human being. I imagined Him so majestic, wise and powerful, and I was flying
from happiness when he proposed to me. I had never felt like a princess before
that moment. He was courting me so beautifully even after the marriage that
most of my friends envied us: in some cases it was white envy, and some people
were telling different bad things about our couple. But most of all, I was
upset because my parents, blinded by prejudices (so I thought then), tried to
talk me out of it, saying that we have a huge difference between our cultures
and traditions. My mother was very sad – being a religious person, she couldn’t
understand how I could live with an Arabian Muslim man, who is, in addition to
it, 15 years older than me! But I didn’t care about what people were talking
and thinking, I was fully living His life, and 6 months later, I converted to
Islam. One more year later, I gave a birth to our son. All that time, I felt
his love and interest to me, like always. He kept spoiling me, buying presents
– not very expensive, but the main is his attention, right? We had a daughter
in a year. Then, I met his parents and a sister for the first time. They came
to visit us. I didn’t understand what they were talking about, but I liked
their friendly attitude to me and the kids. And I did my best, I cooked for
them dishes which I learned by books for my husband.
Three weeks later, before leaving, the mother-in-law and the husband’s
sister took me to another room and gave me ear-rings and a necklace. They were
telling me something, and I thought they were grateful for the hospitality.
After they left, my husband changed drastically: suddenly he was cold to
me, became irritable and stopped paying attention to kids. I thought he was
tired from a lot of work. My husband talked about relatives more often and half
a year later he said he had to go to Oman, as his mother was sick and he wanted
to see her. I decided not to talk him out of it. He stayed in Oman for more
than a month, I worried about him and the kids, as he left money for only two
weeks. Fortunately, I had a credit card and I used it to pay for mortgage and
products.
When he came back, I sighed with relief, and I was glad his mother was
fine. On a fourth day, he said we needed to talk. It turned out he got married
in Oman, and his new younger wife would join us soon, but it didn’t mean
anything, and we would all live together.
Of course, I’ve heard about plural marriage in Muslim countries, but I
could never imagine myself as the Oldest wife in a harem. I couldn’t think that
living in Canada I would have to share my husband with someone else – moreover,
under one roof! Following his strong request, I left university long ago and,
of course, didn’t work. Who am I, what am I, where could I go with the small
children?
I was in shock for a few minutes and then, imagining a comic situation
when two women are laying the husband into My bed, I burst out laughing with
tears and I couldn’t calm down for a long time. My husband’s short-term
confusion changed into anger and he hit me in the face for the first time in my
life.
The next day, as soon as he went to work, I gathered my things, took the
kids and not knowing yet how to live further, I went to my mother’s house.
In the evening, my husband came to us and at first he was trying to
explain something to my parents. Then he lost his temper, got mad and began
threatening that he would take away the kids if I don’t come back. The police
came in a week. They accused me of stealing his mother’s necklace. Being all
stressed out, I took those ear-rings and the necklace his mother gave me, and
threw them to their feet. I was arrested and the kids were taken away. The next
morning, my friends and relatives bailed me out of jail before the court
session, which was supposed to happen in a month. I was told I had no right to
approach the house closer than for 500m and I couldn’t see my children, as they
were given to the father. It turned out that just in a week his mother and
sister came here and now they were testifying against me, saying I stole the
jewelry which was allegedly kept in their son’s house.
I was in despair, my father was very nervous, and mother held on. I
cried every day, searching for a solution. Father couldn’t take the stress and
fainted right in the lawyer’s office. It was a blood-stroke. We didn’t know
whether he would survive.
For the next three days, I practically lived in the hospital, where I
met a woman who was visiting a patient in the next ward. To my surprise, she
came to me first, said her name was Leila and she knew about the problem and
wanted to help. At first, I didn’t know what to answer, but when she said the
kids had to live with me, before they were taken far away, I asked for her
help. Leila gave me pat on the back, then took out a small candle from her
pocket and, handing it to me, asked me to light it and pray at night. Then she
turned away and left after asking about my name and the birth date.
During the court session a miracle happened. The husband’s sister
testified that the gold had actually belonged to me, as it was a present from
them.
The charges were withdrawn. When we left the court room, his sister
apologized. She said that a day before she saw a woman in her dream, who was
saying they would be punished for betraying me. Her mother got a blood-stroke
the other day, just like my father, and she was in a hospital in a very serious
condition.
The next morning, the husband’s sister brought kids back and asked to
forgive them all. Then again, on my request, she told me about her dream and a
heroic woman, who looked like Leila.
My father almost fully recovered a year after this story. I had a
divorce and found a good job. It’s too soon to talk about personal life so far
– it’s not that easy to forget the past so quickly. But as soon as I’m ready to
start a new relationship, I will definitely ask my savior Leila.
