I walk through this cemetery every day as I go to the mosque. It sits between my house and the mosque. I have many family buried here, including my grandparents, parents, and some brothers and sisters. It is a daily reminder I don’t have much longer to live. I worry about what may be next. Where will I go? I burn incense sometimes on the graves of family members and respected former imams hoping that they can help me when I die. I faithfully pray 5 times a day and try and follow all the rules. I hope I have done more good than bad so I can go to heaven.
I am a young Hui woman living in the city, and this is my son. I grew up in the village, but my husband and I have moved to the city to work and give our son better opportunities. When we moved, we borrowed money from our friends and family to open up a noodle shop. Most days business is just so so. We work from early in the morning until late at night, trying to earn enough money to pay our rent and meet our needs. We are not only responsible for meeting the needs of our immediate family, but we also financially care for my parents and my husbands parents, who are in poor health and remain in the village we grew up in.
My friends and I are leaving the mosque. We just finished our afternoon prayer time. Most of us have worshipped together at this mosque our entire lives. I remember when this mosque was surrounded by fields and now it sits in the center of a large city. At my age, my daily life revolves around the mosque. I try to go five times a day when I am healthy. I spend most of my time with family or talking and playing games with these other guys. All of the families connected to the mosque are like one big family.
I am from a small village, and my family is very set in their ways. My parents have worked very hard to provide for me and my brother. Life in my hometown is very difficult, and it is very different from here at school. In my hometown, many people are Hui, just like my family. At college there are other religions. I have started hearing about this man named Jesus who died for me. I have even spent some time studying the Holy Bible.
I grew up in a single family home. My dad is Han, and my mom is Hui. My dad has always lived about 2000 miles away from me. My mom and her family raised me to be Hui and Muslim. My mom had to work all the time. Sometimes she was not able to pick me up from school, help me with homework, or feed me. A Christian family volunteered to help me. Sometimes they would teach my mom and me about Jesus.
It may be Ramadan, but there is still a lot of work to do. The fields do not plant themselves. I have lived in this area for 55 years. My parents and grandparents worked this land before me. We have a mosque not far from the fields. I go as often as I can. I don’t understand the Arabic prayers or much of what the imam teaches. I am just doing what my ancestors have always done. We are Muslims, so we go to the mosque. We fast during Ramadan. We give to help the poor. This is the only way for me.
