Etiquette for attending Islamic talks
We (myself, Mother, Honey – 15 yr old sis, Ladoo – 10yr old sis, Hustlaa – 17 yr old bro and Ammna – 14 yr old cousin) recently attended a talk by a certain evangelical Christian Texan preacher turned Muslim at a certain venue renowned for its infestation of rats.
7.30pm Talk is due to start
With time on our hands and not much else to do other than count rat droppings, we began to amuse ourselves..
10 THINGS TO DO WHEN THE PREACHER ENTERS:
1. Honey: Wolf whistle
2. Ladoo: Stand and salute as a sign of respect
3. Ladoo: Mexican wave ya’ll!
4. Honey: A deafening ‘Booyakasha!’ in unison
5. Teach Ammna to whistle
6. Honey: “Drum rrrroll puleeease!” and then get everyone stamping their feet
7. Ladoo: Interrupt his entrance with a theatrical rendition of Dirty Dancing’s ‘Now I’ve had time TIME OF MY LIIIIIIFEEEEE!’
8. Honey: Start playing Bogies! (click the link…well worth it)
8.00pm Hustlaa is on the other side of the divide and bored without his sisters. He is clearly not having fun and missing us hugely. We are bombarded with repeat texts “This aint gonna start til f’ing ages”. It seems that even before the talk has began our good intentions of learning that little bit more about Islam seems to have run away with the rat we saw running under the carpet roll 5mins earlier.
8.05pm Ladoo by now has got the Giggles, a highly infectious disease with the only known cure of Mother smacking her on the backside of her head. Preacher has only been on stage for all of 5 seconds.
9. Honey: Jump on stage and start singing songs from High School Musical
10. Ladoo: Stand on your chair and do the Macarena
8.10pm Honey begins to write “This pen writes very nicely” repeatedly over my notebook
8.13pm I lean over and find Ladoo hard at work:
My Poem by Ladoo
Bored Optimistic (what i should be) Run when finishes Education (which I'm not getting) Days (how long this talk will be)
Having paused to reflect on the severity of the first line of her poem, she continues…
Orlando Bloom (could be watching him) Umpa Lumpa (is what Preacher looks like) Tired (of this mumbo jumbo)
OMG (I'm UNBELIEVABLY BORED) Food (could be stuffing my face)
M
Y
Mr Preacher (is boring me) Ill (I wish I was) N DS (could be playing my Nintendo)
8.37pm Mother’s dozing. Honey catches her in the act. Mother looks intently at the hem of her jilbab and attempts to pick imaginary fluff from it hoping (but failing) to give the impression that she was looking down and her eyes were most certainly not closed.
8.40pm Mother’s phone goes off with the Macarena ring tone (whoohoo! Number 10 on the list can be semi-struck off!). She receives stern looks from all three of her daughters who wag their fingers at her with big frowns across their foreheads. I go as far as to suggest Mother leaves the room.
8.46pm Ladoo continues to nurture her artistic talents:
Ladoo self-portrait
8.55pm A fella in the audience asks Preacher whether or not Muslim men have to have a beard. This question has always puzzled me. I begin visualising Him wagging his finger disapprovingly in a similar manner as described above at cleanly shaven man standing in the long line of people at the Day of Judgement and then giving a wink to the bloke with the beard standing next to him…I’m snapped out of it when i hear Preacher say “Your beard is not growing of your own free will. It’s He who makes it grow”. I have a quiet chuckle. It’s a funny sentence. He must be All Powerful to keep the world ticking and schedule time for beard-growing. And yes I am being facetious ( a little) before you start chucking bricks through my window. I gather the Preacher means to say that if you are follically-challenged around the jaw area, you will be spared the finger-wagging.
8.54pm Ammna yawns like a Tyrannosaurus Rex. She opens her mouth nice and wide and looks as if she may even attempt to engulf Ladoo’s head. My heart skips a beat. She lets out a roar reminiscent of a scene from Jurassic Park which jolts Mother awake.
9.03pm Baby near by yells her first word “DADDDAAA!” She’s loving it. She keeps repeating it. Baby’s Mother is so overjoyed by Baby’s vocals that she makes no attempt to hush the child. I contemplate playing Bogies! with the babe.
9.12pm Preacher asks those who are not Muslim to raise their arm. Ladoo touches my hand affectionately. I smile enjoying the love between us. She stealthily goes for the kill, grabbing my wrist firmly and yanking my hand high. Cow. I realise her game plan just in time and pull down hard. Mother would have had kittens had Ladoo succeeded.
9.23pm Question for the audience: ‘Is the present financial crisis God’s punishment on America for invading Iraq?’ Preacher’s answer: ‘No. The credit crunch has a negative effect on many other countries, including Muslim countries.’ Was tempted to cover my mouth and cough out “Indonesian tsunami?”
9.25pm Mother’s had enough and longs for her bed. We’re leaving. (Yey!)
(i bet you’re still playing the Macarena in the background. loser.)
