There is a land where the Hindus once outnumbered Christianity by a great amount, but when the Muslins over ran the country, the Hindus fled leaving their houses and possessions behind. Now this is a Muslim land with very few Christians; one of whom is a man named Siddiq.
Siddiq is a man of faith keeping in close contact with his God through reading and praying every day. As a Roman Catholic, he followed the rules and regulations of his faith, but more than that, when he prayed, his prayers were answered. People would come from distant places to have Siddiq pray for them: the infirmed, those entangled with evil spirits or wrapped in amulets, they would make their pilgrimage to his house, and after prayer, would go home well.
His wife bore him two daughters; Nasreen and Razia. Then she died. Saddiq was left raising his two girls alone. In this land, remarriage is frowned upon. One chooses a mate for life and that is that. Even when a wife dies, remarriage is rare. Nevertheless, Siddiq found another named Susan and after a long courtship, remarried. Susan bore him four sons: Samuel, Danial, France and Innocent.
Together, they lived in a small community. Together, they would go out in the fields during harvest and planting. Together they raised their children teaching them everything they know. Brothers, sisters, aunts and uncles worked together harvesting the lush fields of wheat and rice as the seasons came and went.
Theirs was a fertile land. Although arid, the ancient irrigation system keeps the surrounding fields green. They also grew animals yielding wool and hair for spinning into yarn. Then when it was not planting or harvesting time, they would make rugs by hand on huge wooden frames. Siddiq would map out a design on his frame then stitch the threads into it.
This was a land formally belonging to the Persian Empire. And the rugs they make were of Persian decent. Although today, mechanism has taken over and very few people weave rugs by hand, Siddiq and his family know this now lost art.
The houses are adobe, keeping the interior cool, but when they do get too hot, families will climb to the roof and sleep under the stars.
This little village had a core of believers, and laughter came easily to this family although living among so many Muslims is sometimes difficult. The Muslim God is a different God from the Christian God. Hey do not know the gentle touch of forgiveness nor the comfort of His love.
The man telling me this story told me of a time when he was five. After playing in the dust and hot sun, he became thirsty. So he went to the public water fountain and took a drink.
“While I was drinking, a man stood behind me and asked, ‘Who are you baby?’
I stood and told him.
‘I do not know that name. Are you a Christian?’
‘I am’
And with that, he started beating me with his cane. ‘How dare you drink from my fountain. You have defiled it.’
And he continued beating me until I ran off. As I five year old, I had a hard time sleeping that night.
Christians, are not allowed to eat at the local restaurants, hotels or shops. If we touch their pots and pans, dishes or cups, they become unclean to the Muslims.”
Siddiq’s boys grew. Eventually, Samuel found a good paying job in the City. So he moved.