Dear Infidel by Tamim Sadikali Read Free Book Online Page B

hand; he himself doesn’t let go.
    ‘Come on, Was,’ he both commands and pleads. ‘Do it for us. Get us some wickets.’ Mission accepted.
    The drinks cart is wheeled off and Fairbrother sees Wasim adjusting his run-up marker.
    ‘Don’t do anything flashy against Was, just see him off,’ he warns Lamb.
    ‘Let’s not lose momentum. Look for five to six runs an over. And be sharp on the singles,’ Lamb retorts, re-asserting his seniority in the partnership. Meanwhile, Imtiaz crouches down behind the stumps with Wasim turning round at the other end.
    Imtiaz was getting cold. The virus’s progress had been checked and his temperature had lowered. His chest, though, was still exposed and he was losing heat. He was nearly awake and nearly asleep and re-wrapped the duvet around himself. Facing the radio he lifted his groggy eyelids to check the time. 12.05. Then a word pierced his mental fug: Eid. ‘... Tonight for most of our listeners is just another night. But for Muslims, not only in this country but worldwide, tonight marks the end of Ramadan, the annual month of fasting ,’ the broadcaster began introducing the new item. ‘And tomorrow is Eid, a day of celebration. However three years after 9/11, we have assembled a panel to discuss the issues facing Muslims, and Muslims in the West in particular. Can they respond to contemporary challenges whilst preserving theiridentity? Can they be loyal citizens in Britain and in Europe, or will their first allegiance always be towards the Ummah, the worldwide Muslim community? Over the course of the next hour we’ll be putting these and other questions to our panel .’ Imtiaz drifted back to sleep.
    ‘Ms Petiffer,’ began the broadcaster and chairman of the debate, addressing his opening question to the journalist, the counsel for the prosecution. ‘What do you see as the major challenges facing Muslims in Britain today?’
    ‘Well, as a woman I’ll begin with women’s rights. Women in the West enjoy freedom: freedom to work and near-equality in the workplace, ownership over their bodies, their femininity and reproductive powers. And education is their birthright. Muslims here not only have to respect this in theory, but embrace it in practice. We should no longer accept their daughters being smuggled out of the country to be forced into marriage. And we must make it clear that there is no place for the importation of barbaric, feudal practices, such as so-called “honour killings”.’ Looking over the rim of his spectacles, the broadcaster turned to the Arab gentleman seated alongside.
    ‘Dr Qasim?’
    Dr Qasim gulped.
    ‘Nobody is going to defend honour killings or forced marriages, least of all myself, but it is simply not an issue for the majority of Muslim women, in this country or elsewhere.’
    ‘Are you saying these issues are unimportant?’ the lady half-turned, exaggerating surprise. Possibly a slam-dunk coming up within one minute?
    ‘No, I’m not saying they are unimportant. I’m saying that in the context of this discussion – the future of Muslims in Britain and Europe – it’s irrelevant.’ This was too easy – time to mop up.
    ‘Well I find that incredible. Incredible and offensive. How can we accommodate a religion that has misogyny encoded into its very DNA?’
    ‘Ms Pettifer, you misunderstand me. Forced marriages and honour killings are, of course, a stain on the cultures that perpetuate such practices. But it is simply inaccurate to maintain that this is part and parcel of the lot of a Muslim woman. To make out that they, as a rule, live under such threats, is simply incorrect.’ Dr Iqbal Qasim felt emboldened and patted himself on the back. Nevertheless his trimmed beard was now almost completely grey and he looked tired.
    ‘Oh come now, Dr Qasim, the lot of women under Islam is appalling. And we’re not just talking about isolated incidents. How do you explain the Taliban? Yet another blip? And at what stage do the blips