Who Stole My Soap Bar?

One night, God sent His angel and I saw a strange dream.

I was standing on something like an island. A school bus came wading through dirty water and a girl stepped down and asked me for the toilet and I apologized as my toilet was full and out of order.

She strangely rode above the bus’s roof as some boys do in Karachi. I was surprised at that girl’s boyish ways.

There were several boys also in that school bus but none had a need to use the toilet.

I thought of putting a large sign board to tell all visiting buses that my toilet was full and out of order for the convenience of girls, especially.

Then I woke up, tried to understand that strange dream but failed and I went back to sleep.

When I woke up in the morning, it was a beautiful day. I woke up and went to my washing area where I keep my water tank.

Much to my surprise, I found out that my soap bar was missing along with its plastic case. That was strange.

Rats had earlier stolen my soap bars but not the plastic holder so I looked under my water tank but there was no sign of my soap bar there.

I looked elsewhere, in case the rat had dragged the soap outside but there was no sign of the soap nor its case anywhere.

I washed my hands with water only and drank a cup of tea. I had been living without food for several days as I had run out of all money and God had shut all doors of income on my face.

I tried to solve the mystery of my missing soap bar.

A rat walks on four legs. It needs another two legs to carry a soap bar. But a rat only got four legs, not six.

Only a man got two hands to carry a soap bar and still be able to walk. But what kind of a thief would steal a soap bar and leave other, more expensive stuff alone?

He must got a problem with my soap! “Funny thief,” I thought.

After that breakfast, God sent His angel again and I went to sleep and had a second vision.

I saw a guy who looked like my oldest brother, Abid, and he was very angry at me.

Then I realized he was angry because I was sitting in his way to the toilet. I was having my meal. I moved to make way for him to go to the toilet.

Then I woke up.

I went to my front door neighbor and found my neighbor Hanif’s wife. I asked her about Hanif. She was terribly frightened and she asked me what was wrong.

I told her about my stolen soap bar and Hanif’s brother came running and asked me angrily “Why would we steal your soap bar?”

I couldn’t talk about such things to that unmarried brother nor to Hanif’s young wife. So after a second of thinking, I just asked Hanif’s wife to let Hanif or his mother meet me.

Here’s the solution to the Mystery of My Missing Soap Bar.

God has made me a jolly attractive male. Hanif is one of those who have tried to marry their sisters to me. His sister had boyish ways and hence, I openly told her about my Monia, my soulmate whom God had created from my rib.

A toilet means one’s need to solve a problem. The roads full of dirty water meant bad waters. The bus means a family or a community.

Hanif was very angry at my rejection of his sister. He thought of stealing my soap, which men without a woman use to cool themselves up.

He wanted me to stop making use of soaps and agree to marry his sister so he thought of stealing my bloody soap!

Continues  here. 

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Who Stole My Soap Bar?

Losing My Soulmate – 4

This memoir starts from  The Flight From Casablanca.  Thank you.

A nice investigator named Abdullah quizzed me:

Education: Graduate.

Status: Bachelor.

Q: Did you know about the contents of the reels?
A: Kind of. I found no NTSC player in Morocco.

Q: Did you import the reels for sale or for your private use?

A: For my personal use.

Q: Why did you buy these reels?
A: To learn the Principles of Love.

That was all.

I was put behind bars pending a court sentence.

I requested the constables a telephone call but they were not interested.

Then a deputy came and asked me whether I knew Urdu and I said “aye”.

He took me to the lobby where I found a group of Pakistani pilgrims.

They told me in tears about their loss of passports and travel documents.

The police were in big trouble because it was their fault that the Saudi sponsor of the pilgrims ran away with the travel documents.

They begged me to calm the pilgrims down.

I told them they would have to take them to the Pakistani consulate to get some replacement travel documents because the pilgrims refused to be comforted.

The sheriff agreed and the problem was solved.

Their attitude then changed with me. As many times as I requested the damn telephone, they kept bringing it to me.

This is the real meaning of the story of Crucifixion: do good to those who mistreat you to overcome the world.

I contacted my second older brother, Zakir, as he and Hamid are rivals.

After dozens of calls and constant reminders, he brought a personal guarantee from the personnel manager of my employer, Dallah Group, Saudi Arabia’s largest private business.

Hamid started paying me daily visits to take my dirty laundry and bring new one. He also kept paying me money to buy food as the Station’s food was not very edible.

He told me Rafat, my evil boss, thought it was in my best interest to remain locked up till the sentence but he didn’t know Rafat was an evil boss who hated me.

For those who teach us Satan is a lord, can they tell us why Satan failed to tell Hamid that simple fact?

It’s because Satan is a very wicked lord. He never tells his followers his plans… Because he got none.

He just tells each follower what’s in their best interest, maximizing CHAOS. Hence, his name, Prince of Discord.

Thus, on the fourth day, I received a royal bail and saw the light of the day.

Just as on the forth day, God created sun, moon and the stars.

Another of my older brothers, Asim, called us from Dahran and suggested hiring a lawyer. I found a lawyer nearby our residence and he moved quickly and was about to trash the case.

This troubled Hamid and he advised me to find another lawyer. He found another lawyer more to his liking and paid him 40,000 Rials to do nothing and I agreed to fall in his traps.

Some three months later, I was handed a sentence of four months in prison and seventy lashes served twice.

The prosecutor informed me of my right to challenge that sentence but since it already was the lightest possible, an appeal could only result in a harsher sentence and I accepted his advice.

Hamid confirmed from my lawyer that the sentence would not result in deportation and the lawyer lied and said “If a sentence doesn’t specifically contain deportation, then the prisoner is released in the country,” a blatant lie.

On December 4, I received a fax from APS calling me to serve the sentence. It reeked of evil to spoil my last weekend in Saudi Arabia.

Since it reached after hours, I went home, instead, and spent my last weekend among my family.

As soon as I entered the prison, I realized how God had already sent His angels ahead of me to prepare for my advent.

I found a couple friendly prisoners. They told me about the bloody Water Wars between Saudi and African inmates just 2 months ago but after that War, the authorities provided a little more water.

The chamber I was in had 16 more inmates. Their chief told me about his 7 years’ sentence and his desperate attempts to get a relief without least success.

I told him this year, he was going to be released on the occasion of Eid Festivals, despite having 18 months of sentence left.

Next day, we heard in the news about king’s decision to release all prisoners with up to 18 months of sentence.

But he still asked me about himself and I assured him that he was going to be released and find a driver’s job with 2000 Rials salary or more.

He ordered for arrangement of my daily baths and free laundry service.

It was a very bad prison but I spent my sentence as if I were in a hotel.

Continues…

Losing My Soulmate – 4

Losing My Soulmate – 3

This memoir starts from  The Flight From Casablanca.  Thank you.

Before going to Morocco in 1997, my ATM card expired and I was sent a new one. I took both to Morocco.

At the time of my departure flight back to Jeddah, Omar tried to win some money — now that he had lost my friendship.

I used to pay him Dh200 per day beside bearing all expenses. On top of that, I had given him a Yashica camera and some other gifts plus Dh3000 for his hospitality and honest service in 1996.

But he interpreted my generosity as foolishness. He kept saying bad things about Monia and Immouzzer and thought of forcing me to marry his poor sister, Khadija.

It’s written that if someone slaps you on your right cheek, also offer him your left cheek.

People misunderstand this commandment and most simply consider it a foolish advice. It’s neither a foolish advice to be ignored nor to be implemented by men.

It’s just good news freeing us from worrying about our safety.. Letting Jesus take care of that.

Or as one blogger aptly put it, “Christianity is not about rolling over and taking it.”

I had indeed let Omar play his tricks on me but it doesn’t mean that he owned me. That’s why my Lord arranged for our breakup.

Omar crossed his limits but still had greed in Dh3000 as if he had served me with any honesty.

He thought he was smart and I was a fool.

He arranged a free taxi to drop me at the airport and I accepted that cunning taxi driver and their perfect trap.

On our way to the airport, he shamelessly asked me Dh3000 gift of “good, honest service”. I took out the expired card and punched the pin code.

The ATM machine confiscated the card and referred me to the bank manager. We went in.

The manager looked at my passport, opened the machine and returned the expired card to me but he failed to understand what was wrong with the card.

He must also have doubted the cunning taxi driver and the over-zealous Omar.

I promised Omar to check with my bank to see what was wrong with that damn card and went to Jeddah never to come back to him.

And why should I?

What good he had done to make me remember him?

I arrived Jeddah airport in the wee hours of Thursday, July 3, 1997.

In the above referenced post, you can read about getting caught red-handed trying to smuggle pornography into the holy lands of Saudi Arabia.

I first refused their generous offer of letting me go in case I honestly told them what was in them.

It’s not that they were curious to know. It was about giving up my right to know and the Freedom of Expression of the porn stars.

All I had to do was acknowledge their right to look inside people’s stuff and tell them what they could see & hear. To accept man-made laws, Jesus be damned.

I refused.

I insisted they were computer data reels and there was nothing wrong in them.

They kindly informed me about their media office that had the capability to put the reels back in VHS cases and look inside their contents.

I still firmly insisted they could not find a sin against me — their media office and their holy king be damned.

After some two hours, a nice officer from the media office came to ask me whether I was under the influence of drugs.

I denied.

They called me into the media office and showed me a clip of naked women playing & enjoying themselves.

“Do you acknowledge that this is the stuff you were hiding?” They asked.

“Yes I do,” was my careless answer.

They filled some forms and charged me a fine of 3000 Rials, confiscated my passport and referred me to the customs office on Saturday as Thursday & Friday used to be the weekend.

The customs office sent me to the legal office. There, I met another nice judge.

He told me about Dr. Muhammad Abdo Yamani, the ex-Petroleum Minister who used to work for my employer, Dallah Group, and handle their charity work.

He gave me a full week to bring a letter from Dr. Yamani to close the case then & there.

I knew about Dr. Yamani and had personally helped some poor employees write applications to Dr. Yamani.

But the voice of enigma asked me to ignore that good advice and I obeyed, without fully understanding His plans.

Instead of one week, I went after two full weeks on July 19, 1997.

The nice judge, seeing no letter from Dr. Yamani despite 2 full weeks, advised me to visit APS (Airport Police Station), where he had already forwarded my file.

Continues…

Losing My Soulmate – 3

The Son of Woman

In January 1992, I went to visit Pakistan with mom and my little sister. This was my first vacations after landing my first job with Dallah Group in February, 1991.

My brother Hamid joined us shortly thereafter. He’s an interesting brother.

Since his arrival, he was in search of a song he had heard and found amusing.

He only remembered its rhythm and a few lyrics. Since I had never heard it, I couldn’t help him find it.

A girl of 10 used to come and go freely in our house because our mom loved her for some reason. Her name was Fahmida.

Hamid once asked her about the song and sang the small part he remembered,

“Tu patang heh kisi aur ki”
(you are someone else’s kite)

It made her burst into a laugh!

Hamid, the Mr. Smart, was embarrassed. After a while, she caught her breath and corrected Hamid: It’s not patang (kite) but pasand (like).

She then told him song’s name as well as the name of the Indian movie, DIL HEH KEH MANTA NAHI (MY HEART JUST WON’T ACCEPT).

That movie is an Indian remake of Hollywood movie, IT HAPPENED ONE NIGHT.

Little did Hamid know God was going to make that movie and its song come live in his life. Hamid had been signed up for THE DIVINE COMEDY, which he rather sees as THE DIVINE TRAGEDY because it hurts him.

My flight back was scheduled earlier and went through Dhahran and I returned with my sister, while mom stayed behind with my brother, Hamid, (who figures out prominently in my life).

A few days later, I went to Airport Dhahran to receive mom who had decided to go through Dhahran back to Jeddah with me. My brother, Asim, who used to live in Dhahran, had given me his car to bring mom home.

I waited until all passengers came out but my mom didn’t come out. I gently asked the security guard to let me in to see why my mom had not come out.

I found her in the legal office. She was being interrogated by two officers. They told me my mom possessed 100 copies of magic. Traficking in magic carries death penalty in the holy lands of Saudi Arabia.

I looked at those pages and found some verses of Quran. I showed them those verses and asked them how that could be magic?

They looked intently, consulted with each other and knew they had no chance of winning the case and released mom.

Mom then told me she wasn’t sorry for her loss of those pages. She used to feel sorry for the millions of poor visitors and pilgrims who were harassed by these insolent customs officers who used to ruthlessly tear apart their luggage in search of non-existent drugs and left them crying without compensation.

It was then that I decided I was going to challenge them one day to prosecute me and God called me Son of Woman.

Hence, my crime described in my blog post, “The Flight from Casablanca”.

The Son of Woman