"To be a Chechen Muslim woman is to fight when it feels like the entire world is against you," said Maaret Salamovich, and with that, the young woman walked out of the manager office with her head held high. No use crying over spilt milk, or so the western cliché went in such situations. As far as Maaret was concerned, Walter, the Tim Horton's manager could take this damn job and shove it where the sun did not shine.
"Maaret, you should not have lost your cool while dealing with that customer, even if he was angry," Walter said, somewhat dismissively. Maaret's sole reply was a casual shrug. This particular conversation was basically over. The annoying little man and all of his ilk could go to hell for all that Maaret cared. No job was worth the young woman sense of dignity, and the bigoted bozo who made a negative comment about her Hijab deserved every insult she threw his way...
Maaret was born in the Aul ( a type of fortified village commonly found throughout the Caucasus Mountains ) of Aldi, in the Sunzha River Valley, a territory that links the realms of North Ossetia, Ingushetia and Chechnya. The blood of the stoic, embattled Chechen Muslim people flowed through her veins, and even after living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, for three years, there were certain things that she simply could not do...
In the City of Ottawa, Ontario, one of the first things that Maaret noticed was how damn passive-aggressive and fake the people were. In the nation of Chechnya, and the rest of the Russian Federation for that matter, people did not hide how they felt. As a Chechen Muslim woman, Maaret was well aware of how most ethnic Russians felt about her, and she would fearlessly stare back at them, practically daring them to say something.
"Russians hate us and they're our enemies until the day of judgement," Maaret's father Timur Salamovich, Imam of the village of Aldi, warned her. Father and daughter visited the City of Moscow, Capital of Russia, for the first time four years ago. Dressed in traditional Islamic garb, they definitely stuck out in the vast metropolis where most of the residents were ethnic Russians, as to be expected.
"No way I can forget, Otets ( Father ), trust me," Maaret replied, and together, the father and daughter visited the prestigious Moscow State Forest University. Maaret wanted to become an engineer and work in the environmental sector. Once upon a time, Maaret aspired to become a caretaker for the vast and varied environment that was the Russian landscape, preserving nature as the population continued to grow. Unfortunately, fate had other plans.
Tensions between Russia proper and the Chechen people were nothing new, but the Russian government feared Chechnya's renewed push for independence. In the past, religious leaders like Sheikh Mansur had led the Chechen people into open rebellion against Russian armed forces. when Maaret's father Imam Timur spoke at a gathering of Chechen Muslim students in Moscow, the government went ahead and grabbed the old man, locking him up without a trial.
"Flee this country, my dear, Russia is not safe for you," Imam Timur said to Maaret, the very last time that she laid eyes on her father. He was being kept in a holding cell at the Russian Ministry of the Internal Affairs, having been transferred there by the Moscow City Police. The only reason Maaret had been allowed to visit Imam Timur was because she was his only daughter...
"Otets ( Father ), I won't abandon you," Maaret protested, and then she was dragged away from the visiting area by armed guardsmen. Maaret was unceremoniously tossed out of the building by the guardsmen, and tossed onto the busy, snow-covered street. As the young woman, humiliated and hurt, struggled to get back to her feet, one of the guardsmen called her Chechenets Shlyukha, Russian for "Chechen whore."
With tears in her eyes, Maaret walked away, and then she fled Moscow that very night. With the help of old family friends, Maaret left Russia and spent some time in the United Kingdom, seeking asylum status. This was in the days after the Boston incident, and just like its close ally America, the United Kingdom wanted nothing to do with Chechens. For Maaret, the choice had been made, she would go to Canada.
At first, Maaret Salamovich was in love with Canada, the only country that welcomed the rootless exile that she was. Canada possessed far more racial and cultural diversity than Russia proper ever would, but in time, the young woman learned that this wondrous new country had its own problems. In Russia, hatred for those who are different is as common as snowflakes in winter, but in Canada, the xenophobia was carefully hidden.
Maaret had seen the way that those supposedly prim and proper Canadians treated those who did not look like them. As an Eastern European Muslim woman who wore the Hijab, Maaret was a mystery to them, and they did not know what to make of her. Many of them wondered if she might be from Turkey or Iran, but Maaret always proudly claimed her Chechen roots...
As far as Maaret was concerned, she was a Muslim first, a Chechen second, and everything else was third. When white Canadians made remarks about Muslims, mistakenly believing that every Muslim was a non-white person from the black and brown areas of the world, Maaret spoke up without fear or shame. Astonished expressions and dead silence would often follow those outbursts...
Maaret walked out of Tim Horton's and kept on walking until she reached the bus stop, conveniently located about two hundred meters from the restaurant. The OC Transpo bus came, and Maaret pressed her sky-blue student bus pass against the green card reader machine, it made that pop noise, and she nodded at the smiling bus driver then headed deeper into the packed vehicle.
In rural Chechnya, the dirt roads and rocky outcroppings make for bumpy rides as buses navigate the rugged terrain. Maaret did not exactly miss those roads, but she did not care for the packed buses. Ottawa was big, as far as she was concerned, and it only had about a million inhabitants. Canada had bigger cities like Montreal and Toronto, and the very thought of being surrounded by so many people made Maaret feel quite uncomfortable.
Maaret stood in the middle of the bus, holding onto a yellow bar, sandwiched between a trio of young men in matching Ottawa Senators jackets, and an old couple that looked at her with undisguised curiosity. Maaret sighed, and her eyes fell upon a brown-skinned, attractive young woman in a Hijab and long dress. The young woman looked at Maaret, and smiled, and Maaret returned the smile. Nice to see a fellow Muslim, Maaret thought.
One of the things that Maaret likes about her new city is the fact that there are lots of Muslims around, and they come from all over. Africans, Arabs, South Asians, and even new Muslims from places like the Caribbean, Latin America and elsewhere. At the Mosque where Maaret went to pray early in the morning on Fridays, there were sisters and brothers of all hues, celebrating their Islamic faith. It was a beautiful thing.
"Sister, would you like to sit down?" came an unfamiliar male voice, and Maaret blinked in surprise, and looked at the stranger. The tall, dark-skinned young man rose from his seat, and flashed her a smile before gently bowing his head. Maaret looked at the young fellow, and guessed him to be Muslim judging by the dark blue Thawb he wore over blue jeans, and the azure Kufi hat he wore.
"Um, thank you brother," Maaret said after a brief hesitation, then she sat down. The young man nodded, and said nothing else. He looked at his watch, and pursed his lips. Maaret, who'd been standing for the past five hours working at Tim Horton's, was more than happy to grab a seat. Working on her feet all day was tiring, but dealing with irate customers, and unsupportive managers, well, that took the damn cake.
The bus headed downtown, and Maaret watched as throngs of young people about her age got on at Baseline, most of them pouring in from nearby Algonquin College. Having recently gained her permanent residence in Canada after years of immigration limbo, Maaret could finally study, and work, and do a lot of other things that Canadian citizens took for granted. I will get an education and make my Otets proud, Maaret silently vowed.
Maaret sat there, musing on the future, as the bus continued on its way. At Lincoln Fields Station, a trio of young men came in, and one of them was holding onto his coffee cup when the bus suddenly lurched forward. The Thawb-wearing, dark-skinned young man who'd give Maaret his seat earlier had been standing next to the coffee cup guy, and when the bus shook, his elbow bumped the other guy's, causing him to drop his coffee.
"Hey, Muslim dude, you made me drop my shit," Mr. Coffee Cup said, and he looked at his spilled cup, then at the brother, whose face was carefully blank. When he didn't seem to get a reaction out of the other guy, Mr. Coffee Cup got in his face, then shoved him. Hard. Twice. The Thawb-wearing brother's reaction was instantaneous. He swung his fist, and struck Mr. Coffee Cup in the jaw.
Mr. Coffee Cup went down like a sack of potatoes, and his two companions whirled on the brother, ready to throw down. Watching the three-way melee along with her fellow passengers, Maaret could not believe what she was seeing. The brother fought valiantly, but he was outnumbered, and the two men he faced were much bigger than Mr. Coffee Cup had been.
"Always defend your fellow Muslims," Maaret's father often told her back in Chechnya, and in the old man's absence, the young woman heeded his words faithfully. With a war cry whose fierceness surprised even her, Maaret jumped into the fray. At five-foot-nine and a measly one hundred and forty five pounds, Maaret was no dainty dame, so when she balled her fist and struck one of the bullies in the jaw, the bozo definitely felt it.
