In Sultanahmet Park between Hagia Sophia & the Blue Mosque, a stranger approaches me. ‘As-salaam aleikum,’ he says.
‘Wa-aleikum assalaam,’ I reply.
He asks me to take his picture on his phone. And then we get talking. He’s an Azeri living in Qatar and visiting Turkey on a holiday. He looks around at the Ramadan crowd milling about, waiting to break the fast.
‘Mashallah!’ he says. ‘So many good Muslims here.’ I nod. ‘These are real people, not like unbelieving animals in other countries. I don’t go to kufar countries.’
‘You say it like it’s hell in those places,’ I smile, goading him.
‘It is, brother! Believe me!’
‘If you’ve never been to those places, how do you know?’
‘I’ve seen on TV and internet. Look, even in Turkey, those women there, they have no shame.’ He pointed to a small group of women nearby laughing uproariously at something. ‘They’re not hijabis. They smoke, drink, go to clubs & discos. They’re Muslim only by birth.’
I’m tempted to goad him further. But I decide not to. ‘You are Muslim, yes?’ he asks.
‘No.’
He looks deflated. ‘That’s ok, brother. I still respect you.’
‘Thank you.’ But my sarcasm is lost on him. There’s an uncomfortable silence between us for a few moments. He takes out a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket & offers me one. When I shake my hand declining it, he goes ahead, lights his & breathes out smoke meditatively. Finally he breaks the silence. ‘Brother,’ he says, ‘do you want to go to a club after this?’
