The value of friendship (2)...

(..continuation)

It was a bright and sunny afternoon, after weeks of wet weather and cold winds, seemingly as if to share my joyous mood.

At the touch of my finger on the bell at the doorstep of **, *****y Avenue, the door opened and a lady, slightly over middle aged, came out to greet me. She gave me a hug, kissed me on one cheek, beckoning me to come in.

“You must be Umi!” she said.

“Yes! And you must be Mrs. G. T’s mum? Nice to meet you!”

“I certainly am! And nice to meet you too!”

Someone came down the stairs and then, there she stood, behind her mum.

“Hi!!!” said she and gave me a great big hug and a kiss on my cheek.

“Hello T! You’ve hardly changed!” I said.

“And you too!”

“I have grown sideways and all around!” I said.

“Oh! We all have grown sideways and all around, haven’t we? Come!” said Mrs. G, laughing and taking my jacket, she led me in saying, “Please, do come inside!”

I was led into the sitting room and saw an old man sitting on an armchair, staring at the TV.

“You must be Mr. G!” I greeted him.

“Hello!” he responded with a smile.

We talked for a while. My old friend showed me pictures of her siblings, two married brothers who are both younger than her, her wedding photos and those of her own family. She had driven all the way from Shrewsbury with her daughter, who was out with friends to watch the newest Harry Potter movie. Her husband, a self trained gardener, was bogged down with work back home.

I showed them the few photos of my family which I remembered to bring along, especially of my two year old grandaughter. Mr. G seemed certainly amused with one photo of her posing lying down; her back up, propping her face with her right hand on her chin with a great big smile, eyes sparkling.

“Now! That is quite a pose!” he quipped, imitating the pose.

Then Mrs. G called out from the kitchen, “T! Your tea is ready. You may have it with Umi in the garden. You might as well enjoy the sun while it is out!”

We sat in the small but colourful garden and talked and talked over a spread of typical English tea, biscuits and scones; about our lives since we left the university. T shared with me her family background. Her parents were of working, middle class family and how when she was offered to study at university, the whole family including uncles, aunts and cousins were over the moon. She was showered with presents as she was practically the only one so far in the family to have succeeded to be in a university. The closest her mum had to do with university was as a worker at the University of Manchester’s refectory ( which recently has become my favourite haunt and the place where I get to meet my son in between our busy schedule – me and my work at the university and hospital while my son - his lectures, lab and homework). T’s father was a car mechanic working for someone. Now, he is suffering from Alzheimer’s disease.

“My father just sits and stares at the TV. He probably wouldn’t remember you anymore when we step into the sitting room again,” T laughed.

During the early years of her marriage, things were difficult as they had to survive on her salary as a new teacher. Her husband did not make much as a gardener. Even if he had some big projects, the people he worked with did not have the decency to pay him upon the project completion. However, she is always counting her blessings as she has friends who may be rich but whose marriages disintegrate or are afflicted with health problems. As for her, she has a loving husband, a beautiful daughter and understanding parents; a point to which I myself agree, absolutely. Now, things are much better as she is the assistant head of the school; her husband, an established gardener.

Her parents hardly have visitors. Only very close relatives and even then, very rarely seen. Her mum was actually very worried that I might find their house to be a bit small and not up to the usual English standard. Of course, I brushed these aside.

My friend rummaged through a boxful of old things, which she salvaged from the attic or the loft of her house. Amongst them, my old letters to her, the first few years after we graduated. Interestingly, she showed me a booklet inscribed with the graduation list of that summer of 1981, the University of Sheffield. I did not have a copy of it as I went home early before the graduation with the hope of starting to work as soon as possible. The scroll was sent to me through the post by the university. In the booklet, my name was about four places above hers under the Degrees with Honours list. How sweet! My eyes started to swell....

Before I left, I was presented with a little gift; a small ceramic jar with a wooden top, illustrated with an old English painting on one side. Surprisingly, Mr. G got on his feet, smiling, to see me off. Considering my friend’s forewarning that her father might not remember me! He even obliged to have his picture taken and then, to my amazement offered to take a picture of us both in front of the house, using my camera. And what a fine picture it turned out to be!

We waved goodbye, after a big hug and two kisses on each cheek from Mrs. G; T courteously driving me back to my dreary abode. We hugged and promised to keep in touch.

Amidst the not so blue and clear sky for Muslims in this western part of the world, I am glad that I have done my bit to dispel the qualms and misconceptions that plague the minds of ordinary British citizens. It may be very small but I hope that this tiny step is significant enough. The onslaught of attacks and misjudgements against Muslims especially in the mainstream media here can be frustrating. As a matter of fact, depressing should be the exact word.

I am so happy that I have made this family happy on that fateful day. I hoped that I have given a true picture of a Muslim to this family. And hope too that they may spread the word around. A picture of a Muslim who does no harm, who cherish and treasure the value of friendship. I thank you God, Most Benevolent, Most Gracious for allowing me to have this opportunity of a lifetime to rekindle this bond. For that is what I belief we Muslims must be doing…building bridges, not walls.