Duh.
Somehow the nickname didn’t last long. Not in the office anyway – I guess I’m way too un-ustazah like, so the nickname just could not stick.
But I do get addressed as ustazah. All the time. Everytime I accompanied hubby to some functions or talk, some ladies would have asked me questions along this line:
"Ustazah kerja kat mana?"
"Errr… saya bukan ustazah…"
"Ooohhh… Cikgu mengajar kat mana?"
"Errr… saya bukan cikgu…"
"Ooohhh… kenal ustaz masa belajar ye?"
For some reason or others, it almost seems obligatory for an ustaz to marry an ustazah or a teacher. If the wife is neither an ustazah nor a teacher, then the ustaz was supposed to have known the wife when they were still studying. And of course, the wife would have been studying in the same place (in hubby’s case, Egypt) if not the same university (Al-Azhar).
Duh.
I’ve since learned to stop telling people that I’m neither an ustazah nor a teacher whenever I meet up with a new group of audience. If they are going to be hubby’s audience/students for long, sooner or later they would learn that he marries a government officer, from some other sources. If they are just one-time audience, it’s immaterial for them to learn more about the ustaz’s wife. The repeated audience of course, would be seeing me again from time to time, hence they would appreciate knowing a little background.
Once, a senior kakak at the office told me that she respects me for marrying an ustaz. She said that while she had heard of PTDs marrying teachers, she has never came across a PTD marrying an ustaz until me. Being a personal assistant, she has been working for many PTDs, so she thought that typical PTDs wouldn’t have married an ustaz because, most PTDs are just too… errr… duniawi. I grinned and told her I believe that I couldn’t be the first nor the last PTD to have married an ustaz, only that maybe she hasn’t had the fortune to meet any of them until me.
So, could a so-called duniawi PTD who could not fit the shoes of an ustazah/cikgu/Egypt graduate builds a successful marriage with a supposedly-ukhrawi ustaz (who also happens to be a Hafeez)?
I don’t know.
But I surely hope so.
Putting our obvious differences aside, we are just two people – like most other not-so-newly-married couples – who are still trying to learn more about each other. Learning to compromise, to accept each other’s shortcomings, to value our differences and to benefit from each other’s strengths. We laugh together and at each other. We quiet each other’s fears and are each other’s strongest supporter. We fight. We kiss and make up.
Like every responsible, sensible and rational married couple, we are aware that marriage needs lots of commitment and dedication to make it successful. I have seen how my biological mother and Ayah sucked at it. And I have seen how Mak and Ayah worked – and continue working – on theirs.
And if you have heard this before, yes, it’s true, children from broken homes try harder. Because we would try our best to avoid subjecting our kids to what we have went through. No kids deserve the kind of trauma which will end them as – in Nisah Haron’s words – “anak-anak yang rosak emosi”.
So hubby and I will keep learning. To fit our lives together. To love each other more. To be more accepting. No matter how worlds apart we may appear to others, we remain firm believers that there must be a good reason why out of billions people, we have been fated to find and marry each other.
And so, I stand by what I wrote him about a year ago –
"My dearest Abang,
May we always laugh together, cry together
and be there for each other
May we continue on caring, sharing
and understanding each other
May we get to be silly all the times
May we keep on whispering deep secrets
and dreaming wild adventures together
May we care for
and love each other
and be blessed by Allah
always"
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