Jordan: Hiba; Feigned Ignorance, Islam and a Flower

Hiba is Mikie's niece and at one point after dinner (and before her brother's dry wretching...) pulled me aside to show me her garden. Predominantly different coloured roses, it was clinically maintained and when put into context with the maze and mess that Amman is; it was very ordered and quite pretty.

While there, conversation drifted around for a bit - mostly concerned with our respective gardens (I described mine as "mostly dead with a few chilli plants that taste like hate") - until I felt that she was comfortable enough with me to talk about something I really wanted to know more about; Islam.

It never quite got there. In response to my feigning absolute ignorance she explained that there was a prophet - Mohammed - and that she prayed to Allah. At that there was a natural pause that led to my asking why she prayed and what she prayed for?

"It makes me happy. It's uplifting, I pray to say thanks to Allah for everything in my life. If he gives me good things, I say thank you. If he gives me bad things, I say thank you. I pray because I know he can see and hear me."

It hung in the air for a little while as I thought about her response. On the one hand, I was envious, jealous even, that she had ready access to something that clearly made her happy and gave her purpose. On the other hand, I was upset by her seemingly implicit rejection of self determination; that ultimately she was not responsible for the things in her life.

I explained that prayer - at least among many of my friends - was much less sincere and generally involved wanting or needing something that was altogether unlikely and that thanks was instead given to friends or family, something that I thought I did in a pretty hit or miss manner.

She smiled and gave me a pink rose.

I thanked her.