Read and name the story(moral lesson)

Samira worked at a meat distribution factory. One day, when she finished with her work schedule, she went into the meat cold room (Freezer) to inspect something, but in a moment of bad luck, the door closed and she was locked inside with no help in sight.

Although she screamed and knocked with all her might, her cries went unheard as no one could hear her. Most of the workers had already gone, and outside the cold room it’s impossible to hear what was going on inside.

Five hours later, whilst Samira was on the verge of death, the security guard of the factory eventually opened the door. Samira got miraculously saved from dying that day.

When she later asked the security guard how he had come to open the door, which wasn’t his usual work routine.

His explanation: “I’ve been working in this factory for 35 years, hundreds of workers come in and out every day, but you’re one of the few who greet me
in the morning and say goodbye to me every night when leaving after work.

Many treat me as if I’m invisible. Today, as you reported for work, like all other days, you greeted me in your simple manner ‘Hello’. But this evening
after working hours, I curiously observed that I had not heard your “Bye, see you tomorrow”. Hence, I decided to check around the factory. I look forward to your ‘hi’ and ‘bye’ every day because they remind me that I am someone. By not hearing your farewell today, I knew something had happened.
That’s why I started searching every where for you.

Moral Lesson to reflect upon: Be humble, love and respect those around you. Try to have an impact on people who cross your path every day, you never know what tomorrow will bring. Let this story be an inspiration. Let’s share to inspire others; someone else shared this to inspire me…
Jumat kareem


Words make me lifeless

*Guest post by my lovely talented cousin. Although she always says she is a novice, but everyone would agree that this post she wrote effortlessly is really inspiring!*

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words make me lifeless, sticks and stones hurt my body while words are ghosts that haunt me.

Pain left its scar on a mind that was tender, the bones are healed. But this words I remember giving me a sharp pain like a stubborn migraine.

The word you just said made that girl a living-dead, the “useless” you called him just made him stop believing in himself.

Yes you didn’t kill him with your hands, Yes you didn’t pull the trigger at her buh you know something?

You killed with your words!

True! You are guilty of murder. How many more souls would you take with your words? Someone somewhere just cancelled suicide coz he/she received a call from someone.

That prostitute just believed she could be successful without selling herself coz someone proved it to her, someone believed in her.

Now this is a wake up call, SPEAK POSITIVITY. So STOP destroying people and shattering their dreams. Pen is lifted till another bothering issue

Love Story… Ugly Twist of faith!


Once a Muslim young man loved a Christian girl , they wanted to get married but her parents would not accept because he was a Muslim! It
was a big dilemma for them! But they both loved each other sincerely and thought nothing should separate them.

One day , the Muslim man got very ill and was dying, he was on the death bed. A friend of his was beside him , he told him: Say Shahadah, say
La Ilaha Illa llah Muhammadun Rasulullah , but the Muslim man didn’t say it, he cried and told his friend: I ’ m afraid that if I die as Muslim I will not find my beloved in the hereafter !! So I want to become Christian hopefully I will meet her in the hereafter!! And he became Christian !! He came out of Islam , he became a murtad! And right after he went out of Islam he died ! So he died as a non- Muslim.

The girl that he used to love came asking about her lover, she found his friend , she asked him :
Have you seen that person (her lover)? He sadly told her that he died ! But he did not tell her that he went out of Islam ( Apostated ). She was very
sad and cried , and said : I fear as a non Muslim I will not meet him in the hereafter , So I bear witness that there is no God except Allah and Muhammad is the Messenger of Allah ! She embraced Islam, hopeful that she will meet him in paradise !

Later on she died , and died as a Muslim and her lover had died as a non -Muslim, she won Paradise and lost him, and he lost her and lost paradise and got hellfire .
Subhanallah, the wisdom behind this story is for one to remain steadfast onto Islam and keep the intention in the heart that I will live all my life on
Islam and to stay patient over the hardships and calamities, and Allah will reward tremendously . We ask Allah to keep us stead fast to Islam , wal Hamdulillah .

To the Muslim Women and to whom it may concern


Oppressed! Subjugated! These are probably the words that come to your mind when you see a Muslim woman covered in Hijab (the Islamic modest covering of a woman). You assume it’s her father or some radical male member from her family who is forcing her to dress that way. At least that is what people say to you. That is how the media views Muslim women who cover.

Let me ask you, have you heard of the famous sayings: “go straight to the source?” Or “walk a day in my shoes?” I am sure you have heard these a million times.

Let me use the first. I ask you sincerely, have you ever gone to the true source for information about Hijab and Islam? Have you read books, asked scholars or visited a Mosque? Have you ever asked a Muslim
woman why she is so covered in a world that seeks to shed as much clothing as possible? If you asked a Muslim woman, she would inform you that the purpose behind her Hijab is to obey her Creator over the creation. Her Creator, Allah (God), did not legislate Hijab in order to oppress her,
but rather to free her from the shackles of this world. He ordered Hijab as an honor and sign of dignity for women.

When a Muslim woman covers her hair, chest and body, she is sending a silent message that she respects her body and like a pearl in the ocean, she covers it with her beautiful shell (Hijab). No one has the right to observe, gawk at and judge a Muslim woman by the highlights in her hair
or curves on her body. Instead they judge her for what is in her mind, her character, and her goals and ambitions. Hijab is prevention from being accosted by ignorant minds who only judge a woman by the
clothes she wears and the skin she shows.

A woman’s body as you know is sacred and this is why Islam encourages women to strive to cover and protect it.

Let us return to the second saying, “Walk a day in my shoes.” This is where WHD comes in. What is that you ask? WHD is short for World Hijab Day. This second annual event will be held on February 1 st, 2014 (God willing). On this day, we ask Non-Muslim and Non-Hijabi Muslim women worldwide to observe Hijab for a day. It will be a day for everyone willing to experience
what it’s like to step inside the shoes of a Hijabi. Our hopes are no less than that. We wish you will gain a wealth of knowledge and experience a slightly different definition of FREEDOM.

Respect The Letters

Respect the Letters (Continued)
                        ﺭ* ﻁ* ﻝ* ﺩ

Me *Hey Rokeeya, how are you?* I initiated
another text a few days after she suggested
that I stop at the MSA which I haven’t done
Rokeeya *Hey… You again?* she asked. Her
annoyance was definitely ‘showing’.
Me*I am sorry to bother you. What are you
studying by the way?*
Rokeeya *Who wants to know Aaron? I am
busy.* I felt the sharpness in her words even
though they were not said to my face.
Me*Do you always have a wall up?* I asked
intrigued by this creature. My intuitions were
telling me that her acts were just smoking
mirrors. If there was one thing I knew how to
do was to spot a girl that had a thing for me.
And on that night she came to our house, I
definitely sensed distraction in her thoughts
before she spoke.
Rokeeya *I am studying for finals. I am on
working on my PHD in Chemistry, and this
semester is my last insha Allah*
Me*Wow! Good luck.* This girl was almost
taking off with her life, and I was still trying
to get a Bachelor’s degree. I thought to
If I wanted to have any chance to graduate to
impress her, I needed to put some order in
my life. I was two years behind on my degree
because of the distractions of Greek life. So
much for wanting to become a History
teacher. I needed to leave New York and go
somewhere else more student friendly. I
barely passed my classes. The life here
worked for some people but not for me. My
fraternity alone was my biggest distraction.
What makes you think that she would be
there when you are ready to affront her again ,
my consciences snapped in. ‘We will just
have to wait and see,’ I muttered. She
seemed like the type that make men run in
the other direction. So, I may be in luck
because I had eyes on the prize; her. I swore
to myself then that her tenacity would not
deter me from trying to get her.
Where can I go? Where should I go if I want
a taste of some American History? The
questions just kept popping in my mind. All I
knew was that Google could point me in the
right direction. After searching American
History, a list of redneck TV shows popped
up. As stereotyping this sounded but true
enough, I decided to go to Texas.
Now, Houston or Richardson? According to
my researches, both cities have a high
community of Muslims. Hmm, maybe this my
ticket to get to know more on Muslims and
see what they are up to since the school year
is over. I decided to go for a school that did
not have my fraternity so that I wouldn’t
betempted to join. UTD (University of Texas
in Dallas) is my first choice.
I applied to the school for the fall 2013 and
decided to take the spring semester off. Time
to make money for my trip to Texas!

I stared at the last text feeling cheated; ‘Wow!
Good luck.’
He didn’t even say good bye. It was like he
was intimidated by my level of education or
saw a ghost then scurried away as soon as
possible. He also didn’t even try to flatter me
with Latin words like he normally did. Oh
well, why am I even obsessing over this boy
when he wasn’t even Muslim? He will
probably try to text me in a few days, I
inferred delusional.
Days passed. Then weeks elapsed. And
before I knew it, months had gone by. Aaron
had probably found a girl that was not harsh
like me. Every day, I had to stop my
nafs from constantly reminding me of
someone I could not have. It is probably
better that way. But how did he even
disappear with noone knowing where he was.
As a new Alumnus, I inquired on him a few
times and that raised doubts in the minds of
my sisters that were still in the House and
going to school. This is how it went down
during one of my weekly visits after grad
“By the way Ameetah, is that tool of Aaron
still leading that TMZ chapter?” I asked her in
a pseudo disinterested tone.
“No one knows where he is. He never came
back after last fall semester. You keep asking
that question a lot. Why do you care?”
“Yes, why do you care?” Homayra jumped in
in our A to B conversation. She was
obviously eavesdropping.
Darn ! There were no secrets in this
sisterhood. Ameetah knew everything on
campus even though she was unnoticeable
the majority of the time like Madhuri in
Outsourced . She was the gossip queen with
her nerdy classes and self. Bright sister
After that, I stopped inquiring to raise more
suspicions on myself. However, one day I
don’t know what came over me, and I
decided to text him. I had his number on my
phone all along but assembling all the guts in
the world to cross ‘The Line’ was my main
concern. I am still human so don’t judge me.
Me* Hi Aaron, did you ever check out the
Aaron’s phone*Who are you?*
Me*Wrong number.* I prompted to reply. I
knew this was a bad idea! Ugh! I wanted to
dig a hole and hide myself in. I am such a
Aaron’s phone *Liar! He will only marry me
la bellaza or whatever your name is.*
May be the receiver had a point, I was lying.
Ignoring this ever happened would be the
best thing to do now. But wait a minute, la
bellaza ? Forget it; he probably didn’t
remember my name so he went by this
predictable name. I refuse to believe that he
was still into me. Plus, he looked like he was
getting married. Excuse me! I was not getting
on this train. So long irrational wishes! I
finally thought before unplugging him from
my thoughts forever.

“Uncle A, this girl texted you but I deleted
her texts and her name from your phone
along with other ones. I will be the only
woman in your life.”
“Melanie…You did what?” This niece of mine
was definitely a psychopath. I had yet to
understand her infatuation with my lame self.
I wanted to scold her further but her eyes
started to water and she was about to burst
out in tears.
“I ..I …I am sorry uncle Aaron.” Against my
will, I gave her a hug. I knew she was
playing me. And she probably had a smirk
on her face while faking these crocodile tears
while my protective arms were wrapped
around her. A few more minutes of
consolation went by before I gently kicked
her out of my room. Unbelievable! I blinked
for a second and she was all over my private
‘Now, who are the ones that she deleted?’ I
secretly pondered. Then, I thought of
checking my data usage online. Ha! I
seriously hope it is Rokeeya. But it dawned
on me that our internet was down and my
cell phone was not immune. Seriously no
bars? The universe must be against me. If it
is important, God please let whoever that
contacted me do it again. God? I never asked
upon him. That’s a first.
And so I waited and waited and no one ever
did. From that point on, I carried all my
personal belonging around with me. I logged
out of my computer. I put a password on
everything I owned to deter that little pest to
screw with my life again.
I wasn’t interested in girls after I met
Rokeeya because I yearned for that rare
feeling I experienced when I first laid eyes on
her. She didn’t have an overpowering scent.
She just smelled fresh. She was very
attractive. Having said that, ‘beauty lies in the
eyes of the beholder.’ I wondered if her hair
was curly under that scarf of hers. My
curiosities were satisfied when her vindictive
sister posted her pre-Islam pictures all over
the school campus. I kept a picture of her,
and I bet she would have been mad if she
knew I held on to one.
When you are a crook, you think like one and
act like one. I said that because my eyes
were sparkling with malice because of my
next move. Because I snatched a picture of
hers without her knowledge, I searched the
pockets and clothes of all my pledges before
we got inside our frat house. Then, I told
them that if anyone was caught with a
picture of Rokeeya I would personally see
that they are reprimanded. I implied and
intensified that hazing was meant. I knew I
was selfish but I couldn’t bear the thought of
her being slandered as I was growing a
strange sensation to her.
“Why do you care?” a pledge inquired.
“Because I said so Bill! She is Muslim and
she doesn’t deserve the disrespect. I am not
one but I know that much from their religion.
Their privacy and respect is something they
strive to keep intact.’
“ Oooo , someone is going gooey on us…” and
a bunch of more oooo followed from the
crowd of pledge.
I thought quick and decided to give them an
ultimatum they would take seriously. “If you
value your initiation that is taking place the
day before finals, you will do as I say.” They
knew then I wasn’t in the mood or for that
matter joking around. There were dozens of
boys that would literally kill to rush our
My threat worked and that was my last
semester as acting president. As I was
thinking this, I reached for my wallet in my
pocket and admired her picture once again.
Here she was; temptatious and the real
Devious Maid of her Master. Like a stalker
would, I perfected her poster into a wallet
picture and stared at it for hours. Some days,
I would fall asleep watching her. I was mad
about her but I promised I would not contact
her until I was a descent and eligible
candidate to be able to make her fall for me.
Hopefully, she would miss me during the
silent time that had elapsed between us.

“Hey Jerry! It is Aaron.”
“Hey man! The hermit is finally out! Where
were you man? We missed you!”
“Same here, I am in Dallas, Texas.”
“Wow, all the way there? Why?”
“Long story. Do you have Fatou’s number?”
“Yea, but she doesn’t give me the light of
day. You aren’t trying to hook up with her?
Are you?”
“Shut up! I need to talk to her friend
“Oh, the former freak. Man, I wished you let
us play and fantasize with her pics.”
“Watch it man! If you don’t have room in you
to see past people’s past and respect
women, you will never land a decent one
brother. I wouldn’t even dare to play with her
picture that way.”
If my subconscious was in control, I would
have gave in. I resisted the urge every time
the desire presented itself.
“I am sorry dude. You are different now. I
wonder why… No offense, I was just joking.
Take a pen, I know her number by heart. She
drives me nuts!”
I jotted down the number and thanked him
and promised to come visit them soon. Then,
I called Fatou.
“ Assalamu aleikum Fatou, this is Aaron.”
“ Assalamu aleikum ?” she paused trying to
understand why I was calling her. And to top
it all, why I was greeting her in Arabic
“Yea, I am a new member of ALM.”
“ALM? As in Alif Laam Meem? Is everything
okay with you?”
“Yes, I need to talk to Rokeeya. Is she
married yet?”
“No, she is not. Did you become Muslim to
impress her?” her tone was very inquisitive.
She wasn’t convinced at all. And all I was
thinking was ‘she was a career girl for sure.’
The idea gave me hopes of still being in the
“Yes and no.”
That’s all I said and my short answer tipped
her off to drop the subject. She realized it
wasn’t her place to question my faith and
“Let me talk to her and get back to you. If
she is interested in talking to you, she will
contact you herself.”
“Sounds good, thank you Fatou.”
“No problem Akhi . Did Jerry give you my
number?” she asked.
“Yes, he did. I apologize for that.”
“It is okay. Jerry has a bad case of not
accepting rejection.”
“I agree.” And we both laughed and I said
houb salam to her. I also asked her not to
say anything about my new faith to her
friend. I wanted to tell Rokeeya myself. I
hoped she didn’t steal my sun. I was also
elated to know that my Devious Maid wasn’t
wedded yet. She had the mean-strong
character of Zoila Diaz and the intuition and
intelligence of Marisol Suarez. Such a
contradiction but I was falling with her every
day that passed.
(To be continued)

Jazak’Allah Khair for reading,
Papatia F eauxzar
Author of “Between Sisters, SVP!” and
upcoming novel “ The Hazardous Life of

Copyright © Papatia Feauxzar 2014


It was 9 p.m. during the winter season. So, I prayed Ishaa (the last obligatory prayer of the day) and went on a study spree. My PhD researches were consuming a lot of my time but it was all worth it. I hope my thesis on the HIV drug I am working on shatters the floor and leave the committee speechless.

Anyways, as I was studying, I decided to have a word with Homayra (also known as Homie) before sleeping on it. I searched for her number in my phone and dialed her number instead of walking to her room. Laziness at its pinnacle!

“Hey, can you come to my room please?”

“Sure.” She replied.
A few minutes later, she knocked at my door.

“Come in.” I said.

She came in, and I told her to sit next to me on my bed. So I started, “Do you have an expelling wish?” I asked still trying to wrap my head around her leading disaster.

“No.” She replied bluntly. She honestly did not have a clue.

“I mean you promise me that you would look after the girls and look what happened.”

“Jeez, relax!” She said. “I joined this group to have a family that does not judge me. So, don’t start.”

“Please don’t use that j-word, it is not appropriate for a Muslim like yourself.”

“And you are telling how to talk now? Omg, you are so overbearing and perfect! You micro-manage everything around here! Come on Rokeeya, just relax a little bit!”

“I am not going to relax because I do not want a bad reputation for the group or myself.”

“Ain’t you Miss. Perfect over here?” She roared intensely.

“No, I am not perfect Homie! It is very degrading to see sisters that wear or do not wear the veil strut themselves openly and engage in blamable behavior like you guys did this weekend. You think boys keep secrets to themselves. No, they don’t! They share with their friends and the next time you are amongst them, they giggle when they look at you! Be careful! Have some honor and dignity.” I pleaded.

“How do you know?” She asked with an unsure look.

“Because I have seen it many times.” I replied sadly.

“Hum…” That is all she said and left my room.

“Way to have manners! Unbelievable!” I let out exasperated.

I should have seen the next morning come up. I was blindsided. In fact, the way that hot head of Homie left my room last night should have made me realize that something was up. As I was walking the streets of the campus, I came across my pictures pre-Islam glued all over the University town. I started pulling the pictures down but there so many of them, and I could not do it alone. I panicked.

My reputation was garbage now with pictures of me wearing the skankiest clothes ever are all over the university. I prayed that Allah spare the sisterhood from slander. I guess I am taking the hit instead. I recited the surah 2 verse 156. Then I called Fatou. She was genuinely sorry.

“Don’t worry, I will come down right now, and we will find a way to deal with it insha Allah.” She said hopeful.
I hung up and got busy removing the pictures of me I could spot.

“I knew you had a streak of freaky in you!” Aaron laughed behind me.

“This is not funny! I have long repented from my sins.” I replied with a sullen look.

“I am sorry about that.” Aaron said after realizing that he hit below the belt. Then, he accrued, “do you need help?”

“I am fine.” I actually needed help but I did not want to admit to it. Saved by the bell! Fatou showed up at the same time.

“Fatou and I can handle it.” I said hoping that she backed me up.

“No Rokeeya, this is way too much. Who could have done that?” She asked.

“I am sure Homie knows.” I barked.

“Don’t throw accusations in the air.” Fatou reminded me.

“Ladies, I can have my brothers help us remove all these scandalous pictures.” Aaron jumped in the conversation.

“That is a great idea.” Fatou interjected.

“No way!” I retaliated.

“You don’t have a choice. And my guess is that they have already seen your pictures or heard about them.” Aaron dropped some reality words on me.

“Fine call them.” I gave up.
He gawked at me for a while and got busy. A few hours later, my posters were gone from the face of the university.

“Please say thank you to your brothers for me.” I asked him before heading to the sisterhood’s house. I was mentally and physically exhausted. On the way home, a few boys whistled at me. I rolled my eyes and thought: Great! I guess I am going to wear a niqab now to stop the unwanted attention.
Back at the house, Homie was waiting for me in the living room.

“Liked the display of your past life on the walls?” She asked me wickedly.

“Your doing?” I asked.

“Of course it is. It was very easy to do. I just googled your name, and there were everywhere.” She admitted with a grin. Unbelievable! She did not even deny it.
So I got in her face, stared coldly at her, and said, “You think this is going to shake me? It just makes me stronger. I forgave you for your acts over the weekends but you go and do this to me. That is very low and shady! And coming from my own sister, it is very disappointing.”

“Well, I thought to myself: I will either be kicked out or have her kicked out.” Homie antagonized me further.

“You are a psychopath! I was not even planning to have your badge removed.”

She felt stupid then.

“Oh I am so sorry. That was very spiteful.”

“Ya think?” I asked in a pseudo-incredulous tone.

“Excuse me, I need to take of these ‘cockroaches’ of the internet.” I let out disappointed and crushed. Then, frustrated, I roughly bumped my shoulder to hers before disappearing behind her.
I emailed Google, Bing, etc. to take any pictures (covered or not) of me down. It was a ‘fun” process.

Later that night, Aaron texted me.

Aaron *Hey, you are very beautiful. But I did not need to see uncovered pictures of you to know that. Aaron.*

Me *Where did you get my number? And thank you for the compliment.* I blushed at his words.

Aaron *I have my sources and that is my business ;).*

Me *Touché! What’s up?*

Aaron *Bellissima…*

Me* La bellaza would be more appropriate. I am not Italian, lol! Anyways, I don’t mean to burst your bubble but you and me can’t happen.*

Aaron *Because I am not Muslim? That is wildly unfair.*

Me *It is not. I am not encouraging your feelings because it goes against my belief. I worship Allah and not feelings or love for that matter.”

Aaron * Very deep. This is not over. I want to learn about your religion.*

Me * Stop by the MSA (Muslim Student Association)’s office, they can help you 😉 *

Aaron * Will do.*

Me * Talk to you another time.* I replied and smiled. There was something about him I could not quite explain or understand yet.



Papatia Feauxzar
Author of “Between Sisters, SVP” Novel

“The Hazardous Life of Nilüfer” Upcoming novel
“The Dream” Upcoming novel
“Freedom Fighter” Short story
“Fixed Up!” Short story
“Change of Shoes” Short story

Respect the letters 2

Part 2
“Are you coming or not?” I asked.

“Do I have a choice?” Fatou snarled bitterly.

And we left the house in our green and white abaya (dresses) we normally wear for chapter (weekly meetings). Our hijabs were white. In our rush, I forgot to hide my Juicy Couture heart necklace.

The AKA (Alpha Kappa Alpha)’s house was to our left and the GPhiB (Gamma Phi Beta)’s house was on our right. Behind us stood the house of the APhi (Alpha Phi). Further down to right, we could see the houses of the XΩ (Chi Omega) and the ΚΔ (Kappa Delta).
Within ten minutes, we were at the house of the TMZ (Tau Mu Zeta). They were also known as Trouble Maker Zeroes. Their members opted for Troubled Maker Zorros instead.

I spoke first. “I am here to see your president if he is available.” I spoke with confidence and my head high. I am a woman that will not be intimated by men, I tried to convince myself inside.

“He only meets people on appointment but since you guys are Irish that came to give their hearts to him, I am sure he won’t mind.” The tool mocked us.

“We are not Irish, and we are here to discuss business.” I replied with a sharp and calmed tone while putting my heart necklace under my abaya.
The tool gave me a look which was part amused, part confused before going in to get his president. That’s right silly; I am not oppressed or afraid to speak my mind! The media and people with their own cultural baggage would have you believe that a Muslim woman is supposed to be afraid to speak up or make a difference.

The tool of frat boy came back with his president and stood next to me. Their president was definitely the type I used to fall for; tall, blond, with green eyes. I hoped his looks would not distract me from what I was there for.

“Hello, I am Aaron. What can I do for you?” He asked.

“Hmm… Hi, can we sit somewhere to talk in private with my sister? I said loosing my focus due to my slight attraction to him. Slight? Noooo, it is a major what is happening right now.

“If your sister is coming, my brother, who is also my right hand, has to come.”

Dang it! We are outnumbered. Well, even… I should have taken Fatou’s advice to come with her brother. She read my mind and shot me a look that said I told you so!

“Give me a minute to consult with my sister.” I told him and pulled Fatou closer. “What do you think?”

“Tell him that we can sit under the tree over there with the benches. We need to be quick. I don’t want people spotting us here. It is a man place…” She replied uneasy.

I relayed the info to him, and we went to sit under the tree. I started, “Over the weekend, a group of sisters from our sisterhood came over here and were enabled to smoke drugs. One thing led to another and questionable and inappropriate behaviors were the results.”

Aaron’s face changed and became icy. “I am not aware of any drugs.” Then, he shot a look at the tool whose name is Jerry.

“Jerry is that true?”

“She may be right. I heard rumors.” Jerry admitted distracted. He was devouring Fatou with his eyes. She was just ignoring him the whole time. She has that effect on many men and women. She was not flashy or anything but she had this aura that drew people in. Men wanted to make her their Queen and women wanted to be her friend or become just like her. She had that Nur (light).

“What? You don’t even know what’s going in your own house?” I snarled.

“Lady, this is not the time to pass judgments. For all I care, we men will always come up on top and your sisters will unfortunately be treated as little whores after what happened. So calm down so we can figure this out.”

His words stabbed me. Oh no, he did not just call my sisters names!
As soon as I wanted to jump in his face with my quick temper, obviously angered by his statements, Fatou grabbed my hand to hint me to calm down and think clearly at my next move. Thing I did. I recomposed myself pretty quickly and sat.

“I don’t care if you knew or not. I am here as damage control. I want to put a lid on this one. I am sure you don’t want to loose any members over this or your charter for that matter. Neither do I. If international hears of this, we are grass, and they will be the lawnmowers. So, find the culprits and deal with them. It is irresponsible.” I ended my prose in a verdict tone.

“Feisty Muslim girl, huh?” He said and continued. “I have never seen anyone quite like you. You are very bossy.”

“There is a start for everything. Do we have a deal?” I retorted.

“Yes, we will tie loose ends.”

“How did you hear about it?” He asked.

“I have my sources and that is my business.” I replied with a grin. Quite honestly, a new member was the whistle blower. Her name is Ameetah. She decided to stay at the house the weekend in question. However, after a load of homework, she decided to visit the frat house and check on her sisters to relax a little bit. At her own disbelief, she found the girls misbehaving and not sober. She left promptly without them noticing that she saw them. She, then, struggled to tell me not wanting to sound like a traitor. I am glad she did before we ended up on national Television.
“So long brothers!” I said sarcastically to Aaron and Jerry. Jerry was barely listening since he was drooling over Fatou the whole time. Then I told Jerry, “She is out of your league.” I winked evilly.
Fatou smiled modestly and got up to leave with me.

TO be continued

By Papatia Feauxzar
Author of between sisters (SVP)