There was absolutely nothing my father didn’t do to make me love the hijab.
From inviting a tailor to our house to take my measurements, to sitting me down to watch those beautiful hijabites on television then(there was a program named ‘The Muslimat’ or something) but I just couldn’t wrap my head around why I must wear the hijab.
“Me, wear hijab?, not me. How do I cope with the heat and jest from my friends? I don’t want to be perceived as backward. I just wanted to look chic” I thought.
I would even sneak out of the house with my scarf and swaggerlicious outfits. Wearing the hijab was not for me. I didn’t like it and I never wanted to be associated with it.
Having noticed our reluctancy to wear the hijab, my father compelled us to observe solatul Subhi in the living room, in order for him to engage us more in Islamic teachings. We grudgingly obliged.
Praying with Daddy in the living room was misadventurous. We just wanted to pray and leave but father smartly appointed me as his Yoruba Qur’an reader.
Subsequently, I began to fall in love with the hijab. My eyes began to behold the beauty of hijab. “I think we should try wearing the hijab. It’s not a bad idea afterall” I told my siblings.
Alhamdulilah I was able to influence my younger sisters to wear it as well. We started wearing pashmania. Daddy was not satisfied but he encouraged us all the same.
So, when it was time for me to get married, I announced the visitation of my future husband. My father was glad that I was finally doing the needful.
“Where is he from?” he asked?. “From Edo State sir” I replied.
He starred at me as though he had seen a ghost “Kilowi (what did you say)? So, out of all the Yoruba men, it is a igbo man you are bringing home to me?” he shouted.
“Daddy, he is Edo not Igbo. “Kini iyato won (what makes them different from each other)?” he queried.
“Daddy, a muslim is a muslim no matter where he is from” I told him and he calm down immediately. “It’s okay then, he can bring his family next week” he said.
Few months into my marriage, father came to visit with my mother. They met me wearing the khimar and they were surprised.
“Who am I seeing? Nusirat, is this you? Is this your new way of dressing or you are only wearing this at home?” He asked as he entered.
“I now wear jilbab o, daddy. My husband bought more than four jilbabs for me.” I replied as I serve them water.
Daddy walked to my husband and said to him: ” AbdulRasak, is this true? How are you able to convince her to wear it? “
Husband just sat there smiling.
“Alhamdulilah, Alhamdulilahi, Alhamdulilahi Robbil Alameen. AbdulRasak, I was scared initially but my love for you just increased. You have been able to achieve within months what I couldn’t achieve for years. Now, I know that my daughter is in safe hands. May Allah bless your home. Alhamdulilah.
“I don’t know that you Edo people can be this religious o.” he said and we all laughed.
Morals of the story:
1. Don’t judge a book by its cover.
2. Parents must continue to guide their children to the right path no matter how defiant they seem.
3. Good things come to you if you do the good things commanded by your RABB.
4. All Allah’s commandments are for our own good.
5. Put your children in prayer.
Olaide Nusirat Akinboyede-Umoru writes from Lagos, Nigeria.
