Literally was, but, when this is all you know, and you aren’t exposed to the harsh realities of the world out there, what else do we complain about except first-world things. For sure, our parents always imprinted upon us how we live the privileged life compared to our poorer relations in Bangladesh, or the children caught in the wars of Afghanistan, Yemen and Palestine. But it was mostly through the eyes of the media, and really, after all we know about the inherent bias reporting, how much can we really trust Western media for the truth. As the weeks were unfolding I gathered a bit of traction. I quickly emerged as capable in my lessons, talkative and friendly, and engaging to the teachers. There was this Bengali girl called Amatur, and in our registration period before all lessons officially began, the tutor welcomed me to this new class of students who I would progress through the years with. He reminded me that I would have to work hard as I had missed out on a lot of schooling etc etc. Amatur, for some reason, volunteered to be my chaperone for the week and show me around. “Aww you’re so cute”, she cooed after the period ended. She was bubbly, tall and had a full face of make-up on her already pretty face. She would be what I describe as a tracksuit/sporty kinda soul. She had long black hair tied up into a strong high pony which accentuated her high cheekbones even more. I cold tell she was popular; as we walked down the corridors on this ad hoc tour, she was casually and coolly talking, boys everywhere looked at her, and girls watched her. “OK, so this is your science class and this is mine next door. Meet me here afterwards OK?”, she told me jovially. I entered my class, and as I was finding my seat, I heard a group of boys approach her. “Who is that you’re with Amz, looks kinda gay”, one Bengali boy said in an unmistakably mean-spirited way. “Nah allow him, he’s a nice guy, I know him innit”, she said. That must have provided some street cred for me, because they didn’t make any further remarks. Oh crap, this is going to be a difficult year, I thought.

So I walk up to a workbench in Science and the students there were already engaged in a heated political debate about religion. It was amazing to see: there was a very giggly Bengali boy, a witty Sudanese boy, a sharp and smart Moroccan girl, a very tall, gangly and quiet white boy, another Bengali boy laughing with a cheeky glint in his eye and a very sharp and rat-like featured face, another girl very demure from Egypt. This was the middle bench. The front bench was so close to the teacher it weas abutting her butt, and it had a row of heads covered in headscarves, that sat atop straight-backed bodies. These were girls; and I promise you, they never, ever turned around. I never saw them come in or leave and I never saw their faces, they were always facing the front. Strange…little did I know that one of those girls, was called Maha…and well, you will learn of Maha all in good time. It was a free period before lunch and I was in my famous spot in the library. Suddenly this loud group of students walk into the library, and I knew what was about to happen in 3…2…1…”EXCUSE ME, WHAT DO YOU LOT THINK YOU ARE DOING”, roared Ms Fawcett. “I have students working in here, you can’t just walk in with loud voices. There is a sign!”, she barked at them. I knew she was shooing, batting and flicking them out again. I chuckled to myself. “Oh Hi!!, that cheery greeting took me by surprise, as it came from that giggly Bengali boy in science. His name was Habib. “Hi, you alright?”, I said back quietly. “What you doing here in the corner, it’s lunchtime soon. OMG are you working?”, he giggled again and then sat opposite me. “I’m Habib, we have Science together”, he offered his hand so I shook it. “Listen, come to lunch with us lot innit”, he said smiling. I was very cautious. “Erm, I kind of just eat in here”, I said making that sorry apology face. He insisted. He wanted to show me the playground and meet the rest of the crew. It was strange, I didn’t think boys were actually nice, as a specie. I conceded, I mean he seemed legit. This was the first encounter I ever had with whom was very quickly going to become my best friend.

Gaining favour rapidly with Ms Fawcett, I spent more and more time in the library at breaks, sometimes accompanied by Habib. Ms Fawcett all but adopted me as her second son. No lie, this is how she referred to me to the faculty. It came to the point where, at break times, she would approach me, throw the library keys in the air for me to catch, then leave for her break as I locked the doors after her. The keeper of the library, that’s me lol. Truth be told, I wasn’t enjoying the sharp culture shock. Inside I was different to these lot. A lot of conversations with the religious groups centred around controversial issues like the American influence in the Middle East, the disparity in women’s rights, and of course the major one: homosexuality. Sitting in Science and the United Colours of the World were at it for the nth time. “What do you think Jubeyr?”, Morocco asked me. “Oh, maybe he is, difficult to tell”, I weighed in nonchalantly about the latest male celebrity being outed in the press. “But yeah, it’s so wrong, especially as he is Muslim”, I then offered as the group continued to stare. That seemed to have satisfied them as they all went back to discussing the celebrity again. And there’s me, panicking as to whether they could tell…about me. In truth, they were all lovely human beings at heart. Just victims to the rhetoric and patriarchal systems of prejudice. It was like, every thing not normal was referred to as gay. You know what I’m talking about. “Man, why do we have to do this homework, so gay” or “Nah, that’s gay, as if bus ticket prices have gone up to 60p bruv”. I truly dedicated myself to my work. I didn’t have organic ambitions or plans to be a lawyer or doctor or anything like that. It was only after it was highlighted and brought to my attention that choosing A level options had to align to career aspirations. My neighbour was 2 years above me, and he had an extensive network of friends. In fact, that first week I joined, he found me walking aimlessly in the playground and introduced me to his friends. They were a cool bunch of Bengali boys and girls and they took an immediate liking to me. And I to them. Being sixth-formers, their timetables had a lot free periods. And so during one of those periods, I decided to skip a lesson and go with them. To the sixth form common room. Nobody but sixth formers were even allowed to smell the stench that emanated from that room, let alone step foot in there. It was lined with students in groups cracking up, or students in couples loving it up. Eyes averted, I managed to get away with sitting in there that entire period and thankfully it was lunch time now so I could hang out in the library thereafter.

The next time I stepped into the sixth form common room, I bumped into the Head of Biology and Sixth Form, Mr Ellis. He was an ex-rugby playing 6ft tall stocky build of a man. Puzzled as to what I was doing going in there he asked if I was lost. “No, I’m in 6th form”, I replied casually and proceeded to walk past him. An arm shot out and stopped me in my tracks. “I think I’m quite sure of every 6th former in this school as I am the Head of sixth form”, he shot back coolly. Clearly I didn’t know it at the time. Damn! “Ok, ok, fine, I had a free period and wanted to spend it in here!, I said back. “You, are in,…year 10? Yeah, there are no free periods for GCSE students”, he said again, this time his brow furrowed. “Follow me”, he said and took me across the corridor to his office. Bloody hell why was his office directly in front of the common room! Introductions over, he asked me what I was concerned about. Naturally I denied everything. The thing with professionals is that you can’t bullshit them at their own shit. The guy saw right through my smokescreen. He then asked me a very serious question that would spark a change in our dealings with each other… but all that to divulge in a later post; you most definitely will not want to miss it. For now, all you need to know is that I must have appeared really pathetic because Mr Ellis had a soft spot for me. The next break time I was in the common room, he walked in on his random inspections, and before I could spew my excuse as to why I was there, he simply nodded, gave a roll of his eyes and walked out again. Phew, now I could hang out here amongst the relative safety of the sixth formers. I remember distinctly thinking one time ‘why do I have to go through teenage years? Why can’t I skip right to adulthood and go Uni instead of suffering through high school years. A few students actually thought I was a sixth-former, that’s how much I would hang out with them.

You know how I explained I had a unique fashion sense? I experimented a lot with fashion. For example, I would take apart the seams of my trouser legs,  and sew extra material into them to make them flared at the boot. I used to line the hems of my cargo pants with cardboard and cut a slit up the outside seam just upto the ankle to give it that  open-zip look.  I was obsessed with Beanie hats. I had an array of dark navy and black ones, all brands, that I wore everywhere. I used to wear a beanie, with a hooded gilet, fitted jumper tops, cargo pants with flared hems and chunky Acupuncture kicks. I went through a semi-goth phase, where everything I had was black. The odd occasion an older brother handed down a high-fashion tshirt or top was like our equivalent of Christmas. This one FCUK designer tshirt I was given. All black with those 4 letters in small white print at the front. Instant overnight fame. I would wear the Islamic tupee that was culturally more aligned with the South East Asian styles, a skull cap basically. So Dad bought me set of 5, and I home-dyed each one a different colour to co-ordinate with my outfits. Red, black, white, cream, and baby blue. Year 10 was the smart casual year. Smart dark coloured zip cardigans, FCUK or Nike hoodies and flared dark jeans. The FCUK hoodie I inherited from my older brother had seen better days, and it was a cream colour that was stained. So to revamp it, I bleached it white with Domestos, then home-dyed the entire thing baby blue. I wore it to school next day and it was an instant hit. Back then, the baby pink and baby blue outifts were all then rage, you see. I had this one pair of smart trousers that I actually bought from Debenhams during my truanting era. I wore it everywhere, everyday. It fitted me too nicely. But inevitably, the knee areas gave way and a rip soon developed on the right knee. So I found an old pair of jeans and ripped the back pockets off, cut them into two large squares, dyed them dark navy and hand-sewed them on as knee patches. It looked a bit ‘kiddie’, so I cut more squares out, and sewed 2 on the bum areas (the one I bought didn’t have back pockets), and sewed two more patches onto the front thigh areas. Wore it to school the next day…”OMG Jubz, where did you get those? I was watching fashion week and I swear I saw them on the runway”, Krenare said. She was Kosovan. Erm, I just sewed these patches on”, I replied, a bit surprised because I was walking through the canteen when her arm just shot out and stopped me in my tracks, with such force she almost tipped me over sideways. “Noooo way?”, her bestie Aminah, piped up. She was also, Kosovan. “You can actually do that?”, they both said in unison. Genuinely lost for words, I stood there being judged. Aminah reached forward to touch the patches on my thighs. “Jubz, that’s actually so genius”, and she and Krenare waled off affirming with each other that I had talent and was genius. I’ll take that!

The Pragaymatic Muslim

• High School Chronicles (8)
• His-story (14)
• Pluralism (1)
• Prelude (2)
• Revelation (2)
• Turning point (1)

1. 

   Ahahha. Thank you dear reader. Please do forward this on to those whom you think may benefit. High school is…

2. 

   Oh can’t wait for the next part. Very captivating.

3. 

   Merci beaucoup. If it pleases you then I will strive to compose more. Please spread the word and invite others…

4. 

   I like reading these!

5. 

   […] about how to suppress and repress the dark thoughts and suicidal ideations that plagued me at the turning point…