| Despite having recently given up music,
the words to a song from my early teenage years would reverberate
in my head:
"They only hit, until you cry
After that, you don't ask why
You just don't argue anymore..
I guess I'd like to be alone
With nothing broken, nothing thrown."
The worst incident I remember was when he did a martial arts
kick on me. It connected with my upper arm and the force knocked
me to the ground. He also kicked me a few times on my back.
Something as trivial as asking him to let me visit my family
would send him flying into the kind of rage described above.
"They're kaafirs, understand? You
don't need to worry about them. I'm your family now."
Why didn't I tell anyone? Well, for many reasons. Firstly,
I was a virtual prisoner inside the home, quite often locked
inside. Being new to the area, I didn't know many sisters,
save for his friends' wives. I didn't want to take the risk
and tell them in case it was reported back to him. I also
couldn't bring myself to tell near-strangers something so
personal. When I did go out, he would always accompany me.
I would look around the room of sisters and wonder: do their
husbands all beat them too? Are they wearing long sleeves
in order to cover bruised arms? I would pray to Allah to grant
me a way out.
There were periods when Asif would be nice to me. He would
promise to stop hitting me. I eventually made friends in the
town with some good sisters. I longed to tell them what I
was going through, but felt too ashamed. They all looked up
to my husband as a model Muslim.
One-day, I don’t remember why, but I decided I had had enough.
I made istikhaarah prayer. This is a prayer asking for guidance
when deciding upon a permissible course of action. I told
him that I was going to find a way to get a message to Sheikh
X (a respected elder) that I was being beaten and wanted a
divorce. Neither one of us was happy. I was expecting a huge
row and horrific beating. I was desperately making du'a. I
couldn't stand much more physically or emotionally, despite
a recent respite. I was in poor health from the stress of
the marriage. I was amazed to hear him quietly say "Okay
then. If that's what you're hell-bent on." Perhaps
he too, wanted to end this and find someone else to marry
whom his family would accept. It bothered him that were we
to have children, his family might not accept them.
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