Fiction: The Wudhu’man
I was doing Wudhu’, trying to memorize every step from the tape, but it seems that no matter how many times I repeat it, it’s never enough for the Wudhu’man. He watches your every step — where the water reached on your hands, whether you cleaned your mouth right, or if the water went from the end of your forehead to your chin, or if you cleaned your nose properly, or got the water up to your elbow when you washed your arm, or if the water reached the ends of your ears when you washed your head, or if you washed every end of your feet — all of which had to be done three times, except for washing the head and ears. If you didn’t do it properly after three repeats, the Wudhu’man would splash a bucket of water on you.
“You did your Wudhu’ wrong” said the Wudhu’man
“What are you talking about?! I did every step carefully, as per the tape.” I replied, angrily
“It doesn’t matter what the tape says, do it properly.”
“It doesn’t matter what the tape says?! You gave out the tapes yourself last week. ‘The updated version’ you said!”
“Just go do it again, or you’ll get the bucket!”
“Fine.”
Everything became different after the moderate Muslim Fraternity took over the city, after cooperating with the extremist Democratic Islamic Caliphate. The government received recognition throughout the western world, for promoting “human rights” in the region, and has even gained an observer status in the UN.
I did my Wudhu’ again, this time making sure I didn’t make any mistakes, but some times these fuckers just want to annoy you, so they’ll keep saying you did it wrong just to splash you with the bucket.
“You did it wrong, again.” Said the Wudhu’man, just like I expected.
“Fine, give me the bucket.” I was standing face-to-face in front of him, our noses touching. I was irritated. Sick of his shit. Sick of the shit of every hypocrite so-called “Imam” in this place. They’re all hypocrites. Every person in the city, even their supporters, know what they do in private — fuck prostitutes (which they call “concubines”), do drugs — from light stuff, like marijuana, to opium, to hard stuff, like cocaine. Some of them even drink alcohol. But no one can say shit to these assholes. They’d literally blow your head off if you said anything.
“Are trying to be a smartass?!” He asked
“No, I’m not trying. I am a smartass.”
“Alright. Come here.” He grabbed me from the neck and pushed me to the square in front of the Masjid.
I did not only get the bucket, but I also got 50 flogs.
These hypocrites call themselves “moderates,” but they’re as extreme as they come. They watch you while you pray, eat, walk, talk. When you’re at home, at work, hanging out. They call themselves “The Free,” while they suppress everyone else’s freedom. They say “Human Rights,” while they take it away from everyone else.
Fucking hypocrites.
