| | The Religious Challenge of Living between Cultures.
by Humera Khan The subject of this conference is one that has occupied me for perhaps longer than I wish to remember, and I do appreciate being given the opportunity to share some of my deliberations with you today. There are many tangents to this story; therefore, for the sake of coherence I have focussed on areas that hopefully will be of some interest to this conference. It might seem strange to many in the secular world that we live in today, that growing up as part of a faith community is something completely normal. The fact that my family were first generation migrants from Pakistan and were also Muslim did not create any particular dilemmas in my early years growing up in Britain. Belief in God, religious rituals and faith based values were all an accepted norm. Faith, culture and traditions were so intertwined that it was difficult to know where one started and the other ended. With hindsight I would say that culture dominated our expressions of faith. For us, our traditional dress of shalwar (loose trousers) and kameez (long shirt) were the symbol of Islamic dress, our pakoras (potato fritters) and sawaiya (a milk and vermicelli dish) were the food with which all fasts were broken and Urdu (1) of course was the language of paradise. Being Muslim for my parents meant holding on to these cultural norms, which also included respect for elders--parents in particular, extended family ties, hospitality and great generosity. These values were taught to us usually by example or from what my parents remembered from their own upbringing. But my parents did not come to Britain equipped with the necessary tools to deal with their children's Islamic education. Making matters worse at that time was the almost nonexistence of mosques and community centres. Consequently, what my parents could not explain or what they wanted to keep us away from became instantly haram (forbidden according to Islam). This very black and white approach became the norm and if my parents could have foreseen the consequences of this to our perception of our faith, they might have reconsidered their actions. I grew up in 1960s London and grappling with my religious rights and wrongs did not at this point infringe on my selfperception, other than the inevitable realization that around me were people from many other faiths, cultures and traditions. It was an interesting time to be growing up. The sexual revolution was in its infancy and debates on free sex, the contraceptive pill, living together and the miniskirt were causing tidal waves from the broadsheets to the breakfast tables. It did not make much sense to me but I can clearly remember my father's rut-rutting at these growing trends. His particular angst seemed to be focused on The Beatles whose long hair epitomized for him the disrespectful louts of that generation. My father was not alone--British society in general also raised their eyebrows at these new trends and many vocally disapproved. But perhaps, without realizing it, Britain was slowly entering its last days of Christian influence on the lives of the general public. So, while bras burned and anti-Vietnam demonstrations raged, we continued to play with our dolls, read avidly our weekly Bunty (2) and waited for our daily dose of The Magic Roundabout. (3) Being British meant being Christian to my family in the same way being Pakistani meant being Muslim. Therefore, to go to a Christian school was perfectly acceptable, even preferable, as they taught from the same monotheistic tradition. My first formal interaction with this religion was the Church of England primary school I went to. This school and its traditional values did not create any particular crisis. We were exempt from participating in religious activities but for some reason would go to church for Harvest Festival, which I must admit I really enjoyed. I do not remember religion occupying much of my consciousness at school, except when it came to differentiating between our prophetic traditions. Jesus was definitely not on our team and we made sure that this divide was maintained. Though being a Muslim was not an obvious issue, my skin colour was. My older sister and brother experienced a greater level of racial discrimination than I did and fortunately my experience was limited to ignorant name-calling such as 'chocolate face' or 'Do you turn white when you wash?' When I told my mother of these instances her answers were very pragmatic ...
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