"Divorce is considered haram in the Islamic world, and after splitting from my former husband, my own family turned against me and shunned me," Nazriya Jalakam said, sighing. The short, curvy and brown-skinned Sri Lankan Muslim woman looked at the seven men and eight women of the Divorce Recovery Support Group meeting in the basement of Saint Bernardine Church in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. Some smiled, others nodded, and a few stared blankly. At that moment, standing at the makeshift podium, Nazriya felt like the loneliest soul in the world...
The men and women gathered in the basement of Saint Bernadine Church were black, white, brown and every shade in between, reflecting the diversity of metropolitan Ottawa. The median age seemed to be forty, and at thirty four, Nazriya was one of the youngest people in the room. Still, they were brought together by the shared pain and anguish of divorce, that life-rupturing event which can destabilize even the strongest of human beings. Nazriya hoped to see sympathy in the others faces, but merely saw curiosity...
Nazriya had grown used to being stared at whenever she spoke out loud, folks in Canada never quite got used to her Sri Lankan accent. Nazriya remembered how her future boss, Melanie Smith, the recruiter from the Canada Revenue Agency had looked at her in the interview room. Nazriya's accent was hard on most Canadians ears, in spite of her best efforts. Still, she got the job due to her qualifications and hard work. Thank heaven for small favors, Nazriya thought, shuddering at the memory.
Not a day goes by without Nazriya getting asked about her ethnic and national origins, often by the whitest person in the vicinity. It seems to be a mandatory thing in Canadian society, a rite of passage for all non-whites. Fortunately, Nazriya's upbringing in Sri Lanka made her resilient. Often mistaken for Indian, the people of Sri Lanka were a unique ethnical and social group, and fought both local and foreign powers for the right to identify as such. Tonight, as Nazriya decided to finally share her story after months of silently observing the group's interactions, she drew from every ounce of courage she had left.
"Separation is never easy, madam, we understand that this is sensitive territory, please continue," said Lucien Guillaume, the group facilitator. Nazriya's eyes met those of Lucien and she nodded, took a deep breath and continued. Out of all the people in the room, Lucien seemed to be the only one who understood Nazriya's pain. The Haitian-born, somewhat taciturn man had a certain warmth and decency about himself which Nazirya found simply soothing...
"I met my former husband Rahim Rajesh in the City of Batticaloa, Eastern Sri Lanka, and we got married a few months after, and for a time, things were alright, but moving to Canada doomed our relationship," Nazriya continued. She paused and looked at the meeting attendees, and wondered how many of them understood anything about the social and cultural norms between men and women in Islamic communities.
In the nation of Sri Lanka, Islam is a minority religion, followed by around two million of the country's twenty one million citizens. Buddhism dominates all other religions in Sri Lanka, followed immediately by Hinduism and then Islam. The Sri Lankan Muslim community is staunchly conservative and fiercely protective of their women, and Islam itself forbids interfaith marriages between Muslim women and non-Muslim men. For Nazriya and Rahim, this wasn't an issue, until they moved to the Capital of Canada...
"Rahim and I had to go back to school because the Canadian government didn't acknowledge our university degrees from Sri Lanka, I took up accounting at Algonquin College and got my diploma, Rahim couldn't adapt and flunked out of Carleton University and settled for a job as a cab driver, he resented me, and we fought constantly," Nazriya continued, biting her lips. Everyone present in the room seemed captivated by the diminutive woman with the loud, resonant voice, and with good reason...
"This happens to a lot of immigrants, Nazriya, please continue," Lucien chimed in, flashing her that kindly smile of his. Nazriya nodded at Lucien, this tall, dark-skinned, bald-headed man who was built like a retired NBA player and had a voice that Hollywood actor Samuel L. Jackson would envy yet seemed like such a gentle soul. Nazriya took a deep breath, summoning up the courage to share her tale of woe and triumph with these not-quite strangers in the church basement.
"In Sri Lankan households, especially among Muslims, the man is the head, and when Rahim saw that I was making more money than him, he felt disempowered and began to assert his authority over me by hitting me," Nazriya said, shaking her head. That last bit seemed to wake up the room, and the men and women seated in a semi-circle leaned forward, seemingly intrigued by Nazriya's most recent admission. It's almost as if I'm their entertainment, Nazriya thought bitterly, gauging her audience before continuing.
Nazriya stood there, looking at the audience even as thoughts of her old life with Rahim flooded her consciousness. Nazriya remembered staying at a women's shelter located near the Rideau Shopping Center after running away from home, fleeing her abusive relationship with Rahim. I can't do this, Nazriya thought as she felt the tears stream down her cheeks. She looked up to see Lucien rising from his seat, and the big man closed the gap between them in a heartbeat.
"Thank you for sharing, Nazriya, you're a brave woman, thank you," Lucien said in his deep baritone voice, and he gently led her away from the makeshift podium. Normally, Nazriya didn't like being touched, especially by men. She'd been that way ever since Rahim had started beating her, and even after the divorce was finalized and he'd been sent to jail, Nazriya was still twitchy that way. Lucien's gentle but firm arm around Nazriya's shoulders wasn't intrusive or unwelcome, though. In fact, Nazriya found Lucien's touch soothing...
"No, Lucien, thank you," Nazriya said, laying her hand on his arm before resuming her seat. Lucien looked into Nazriya's eyes, smiled and nodded. He returned to the podium, and addressed the small audience. Another person decided to speak, this one a tall, middle-aged white man named Walter somebody. Walter's wife Beatrice divorced him after catching him in bed with Paul, the repairman she'd hired to fix their pool.
"With Beatrice and Paul gone, I'm enjoying the single life, with the ladies and the fellas," Walter said enthusiastically. The other audience members listened in as Walter raved about his adventures in Ottawa's lackluster bar scene. Nazriya didn't listen, in part because she found Walter boring regardless of what gender he choose to bring to his bed. Nope, Nazriya only had eyes for Lucien, who was checking his cellphone at the moment.
Nazriya knew a lot about Lucien, a lot more than she was prepared to admit. For example, she knew that Lucien works for Shared Services Canada, and studied Computer Science at Ryerson University. Lucien was once married to a white woman named Michelle Wray and they had two sons together, Adam and Scott, who were currently studying at Humber College in the City of Toronto, Ontario. Lucien and his ex-wife Michelle Wray have been divorced for over a decade. The man is currently single, and spends a lot of time volunteering for humanitarian causes. Saint Bernadine is actually the church which Lucien attends...
