Hiding her faith

Fatima bin Laden awoke the next morning in a strange bed, in a strange town, in a strange country. It was the first time in her 21 years she awoke and had to think about hiding her Muslim faith. Very strange indeed.

But it was what she must do for Allah, and for her Uncle Osama.

Last night, after Jennifer Hira finished her last dance at Club Le Boing Boing and offered to drive Fatima "to wherever you're going," Fatima admitted she wasn't quite sure where she was supposed to go, explaining that the guy who was to pick her up had made arrangements. Fatima did not mention that she'd seen the guy on TV news, one of nine members of the Chinese secret police who'd been arrested earlier in the day.

It sounded a little odd to Jen, but she'd been stood up before. And here was poor Fatima, just arrived from the Philippines. She was sweet, and modest enough that she refused to strip at the club.

"We've got an extra room," said Jen, who as a kid was always bringing home stray dogs and injured birds, "so why not spend the night with us and we'll figure something out in the morning."

"Us?"

"Jesse and I live with my parents."

The others were asleep when they arrived at the older two-story home deep in the valley. Fatima's body clock was way off, and though she was tired from the long flight from Manila, she slept in spurts, waking again and again with a prayer to Allah in her head, asking forgiveness for the dance she had to perform last night, giving thanks for rescuing her from further dances, asking for guidance and wisdom.

Fatima was lying there, those thoughts running through her head, when she heard voices outside her bedroom, rose and pulled a long, hooded robe around her, and knelt to the pray, judging east by the sliver of sunlight coming in through the window. She was just finishing when she heard a knock on the door.

"Good morning, Fatima, you up?"

She opened the door, saw Jen holding the cutest little girl. "Jesse, this Auntie Fatima."

The 3-year-old smiled broadly.

"Ho, usually she's shy with strangers. But you're smart, huh, Jesse, you can tell good people?"

Fatima reached out, touched the child's cheek, thinking no, children are merely innocent. Little Jesse could never fathom that Fatima came to America on a death mission from Allah and her uncle.

"I've got to go register for a class at Windward this morning," Jen said. "You want to come along?"

"UH-Windward in Kaneohe?"

"Uh-huh."

"Yes! I have to register too!"