Adapting Case

Adapting

"There you go" said my boss as he handed me my pay for the week. With sweaty, onion smelling hands I placed the two hundred euro notes in my pocket and thanked him awkwardly. I picked up my bike and began my journey back home. Twenty five kilometers was a very long distance when riding a bike and so I tried to think of it as exercise. After about an hour of riding I finally reached my destination. It was a big farm house with a wide green garden that stretched around it, with beautiful summer flowers and pine trees. I tried not to look at the house for too long in case I gave it Ain the evil eye, and so I rode past it to the corner of the street, where there was a small shed house I now call home. "Salam, "I said as I entered. My wife gave me the same in reply. "I can't believe that was 12 hours honey, it felt like 12 days," I complained as I sat on the table. "I also have my night shift today" I added. "Say Alhamdulillah (Thank god) that we are even still alive," she remarked as she put dinner on the table. "Shokran (thank you) dear," I said admiring the food. "You know I've been thinking, I want-," but I was cut off by a familiar noise. Abu-Bakr, my son started crying in the other room and so my wife left me with my thoughts and went to tend to the 5 month old.

What I wanted to tell my wife had been bothering me ever since we arrived in Spain. I kept trying to get it out but I was too afraid. I didn't know if I was afraid of what my Nia (intention) was, or of her reaction. I looked at my watch and I realized I had two hours to sleep before my night shift, so I quickly went to the room to get some rest for I had yet another long night ahead of me.

As I sat there, guarding the big farm house I wondered where my life would be now if I hadn't gotten on that boat. I recalled myself back in Algeria where a civil war had just broken out. I recalled how the government would discriminate between a bearded and a non-bearded man. I recalled how people were judged by what they said. I recalled how people were killed for standing in what they believed in. A shiver ran down my spine thinking about it. I recalled all the pain me and wife went through just to leave that god forsaken country. I wondered if it was similar here, but quickly brushed the idea aside when I remembered how good Carlos, the shed owner had been treating us. But it still didn't comfort me; the feeling of being different and always being looked at as a unique person.

As I was starting to doze off my alarm started ringing, declaring the end of my night shift. With a sigh of relief I picked up my bike and headed home. On the way I decided to stop by the neighboring café to get enough energy to get me home. As I entered eyes all turned on me and I got that uncomfortable feeling again. I did not know why people saw me different to them and why they had to stare at me until I left the café. I quickly ordered my mocha and left.

I reached home after what felt like forever. After I chained my bike and took off my shoes, I entered the house quietly to avoid waking the little bugger. I went inside the room in a similar manner and silently woke my wife up to pray with me. After we both made wudu (ablution), I lay down the prayer mat while my wife wore her hijab (cover) and we performed our fajr salah (sunrise prayer). After we finished we both got into bed. I realized this was the perfect timing to tell my wife what has been bothering me. So I seized my opportunity and said "Habibty (my love), I wanted to tell you something". She groaned to inform me that she was listening. I spoke my heart out. I told her about how I felt discriminated and how it made me uneasy. I told her about how I hated being unique and

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