“I still get some born-agains who want to save my soul and I want to save them as well. They say it’s blasphemy to deny the deified status of Jesus (peace be upon Him) and I say it’s blasphemy to accuse God of having a child. They eagerly invite me to their worship services, but flinch when I return the invitation.”
The bit about saving each others’ souls is said in between fits of laughter. I’m listening to Shameela Winston narrate her search for spiritual balance ÔÇô a journey that led her to convert to Islam 16 years back, aged just 21. What elicited the statement that opens this article was a question on the common misconceptions about the religion that she has come across. The most widespread view among ordinary Batswana is that Islam is a religion for Indian people ÔÇô which leads them to derogatorily refer to black Muslims as Makulanyana a mantsho. To them, she had totally lost face; her conversion an act of betrayal ÔÇô something like, “what have we done wrong for you to renounce us and go there?” It was perhaps this deep feeling of betrayal that led to mockery, rejection and ÔÇô in some cases ÔÇô exclusion from social events.
Then she makes an interesting observation about “some” within the Indian community who also believe that the religion is their monopoly.
“To them, I am an intruder because this is their religion and culture. But when we are together in the Mosque ÔÇô [whether] Batswana, Indian people, Europeans, Arabs, [and] other Africans ÔÇô what we are is Muslims and what brings us together is Islam, yet the world has put a face to Islam, and it’s an Indian face; and a dish to it which is curry or biryani or any other Indian style prepared food. I used to resent that,” she says.
Winston points out that other misconceptions centre around Islam’s belief system, especially the view that Muslim believe in some idol and that Prophet Muhammad is a partner of sorts. She has had a hard time convincing people that she believes in the same God they believe in. She calls it a distorted understanding ÔÇô and it invariably revolves around terror and Sharia. Even then, she states, the emphasis when people discuss Sharia is on punishment ÔÇô viewed by those outside the religion as disproportionally harsh.
“But Sharia is not only about penal code. It’s a code of conduct from birth to death. How you relate to others, economics, inheritance issues ÔÇô it’s not just about the death penalty. It’s a whole system of life,” she explains.
Not all Indian people made her feel like an unwelcome gatecrasher. There have been many others who opened their arms and hearts ÔÇô and even homes to her, like the Selebi-Phikwe businesswoman who gave Winston her first prayer mat and prayer beads, going as far as teaching her how to prepare for prayer. They would even celebrate Eid together.
“She built the foundation for me,” she states. “What I had with her was a genuine relationship which we still have.”
Before then, there was the inevitable search.
Winston grew up in a very comfortable home in Selebi-Phikwe, where her parents were part of the town’s business community and her mother a local politician. The family was Catholic and for the most part she was so devout she wanted to be a nun. However, at age 16, she gave up on Christianity and stopped going to church. At 18, there was an overwhelming awareness that she was looking for something.
Islam seemed mysterious and closed. She used to tease a former long-time classmate, “you guys are suffering. You’re always shrouded in black”. From where she stood, Islam seemed oppressive. It appeared there were too many rules.
At high school one of the Muslim girls put it to Winston that her views about the religion were based on what she had read in the media. On the girl’s suggestion, Winston decided to read the source to form her own opinion. She got a few books on the religion and then the English translation of the Koran.
She would have a totally different understanding.
“When I read the first chapter of the Koran I thought, ‘Oh my God’. I just had goose bumps. I read other chapters and I thought, ‘This is what I’m looking for’. I didn’t want Hinduism. Certainly not Buddhism. I wanted something consistent with what I already believed in. Islam just clicked into place. I knew it was what I wanted but it took me a few more years to get the courage to accept it. With accepting, I had to do something about it. Thus it was only In November 1994 that I became a Muslim. After I became a Muslim, my parents also embraced Islam.”
So, where did Christianity fall short?
“It didn’t satisfy me,” she answers. “I don’t take anything at face value. I dig up until I’m convinced enough to convince the next person. I had my own understanding of the scheme of things. I wanted a religion that fit in with my understanding and I felt Christianity didn’t fit in. The divinity of Jesus and the concept of trinity were difficult to understand. I used to speak to religious figures (within the Catholic Church) about these matters and I was only told to have faith. I wanted to know why the Old Testament is significantly different from the New Testament. We embraced the concept of one God in our everyday language, but when we went to church we embraced the contradictory concept of trinity.”
Apparently, Winston felt so strongly about her views that even when Pope John Paul II visited Botswana in 1988 she didn’t go to see him. Her reason for staying away was that she felt the Catholic Church deified the Pope.
“Inside the church there would be symbols of Mary the mother of Jesus, as well as references to other people and giving them worship status. These people would be elevated to the status of figures to be worshipped. It didn’t all add up. I was confirmed (as a Catholic) at a young age and I was taking communion. That was some of the symbolism that was getting at me. It overwhelmed me. Eating the body of Jesus and drinking his blood? Was it cannibalism? I always found a reason to skip it.
“The other was confession. Was this person supposed to have the power to forgive me? Was I supposed to tell him what I did? I didn’t know what he did because he was just a robed figure. I thought, ‘why not deal directly with the Creator?’ I didn’t want a human being to forgive me. I wanted to access my Creator directly, not through a third party,” she says.
Part of the problem for Winston was that while the church preached against worship of the ancestors, there were days that commemorated different saints. It used to make her wonder why she couldn’t commemorate my grandfather instead.
Does Islam liberate women?
“Yes it does,” she replies. “Yes it does.”
She points out that there are instances where some demeaning cultural practices have been imposed on women in the name of Islam, while such practices actually contradict the religion’s teachings. One such practice that she mentions is honour killing.
“Islam has freed women in a lot of ways. A woman is entitled to inheritance in Islam. In some societies women don’t inherit because they are women. In Islam men and women are seen as different but equal. We are not on a hierarchy,” she says.
Then she points to the many professional Muslim women taking important positions throughout the world. Of course, she falls in this league ÔÇô a human resources expert who holds a psychology degree from Rhodes University.
So how fair is it to women sentenced to death by stoning for adultery?
“I don’t know how it happens that it’s always the woman who is left on her own to face this sort of thing. In any case, it is very difficult to prove because it is almost impossible under normal circumstances to find four eye witnesses who can testify to the allegation of adultery as is required [by the Koran]. Unfortunately I don’t have the facts on how many women have been stoned in the last year, five years, or even 10 years. I’m certainly not aware of any such cases in Botswana,” she responds.
She has thought through the issue of polygamy, and has found that it has a place in society ÔÇô and that it can work as long as the women have the same level of maturity and the man treats them equally. She talks of real-life situations where the wives become friendly with each other.
“Tell me what is more desperate. Being a second wife or living in denial?” she asks. “For the man, it’s more honourable than having a small house. The first wife doesn’t have to suffer the strain and indignity of pretending she is the only woman in her husband’s life. And for the other woman, it’s better to be a wife ÔÇô second, third, or fourth ÔÇô than living in fear of exposure, with no rights or positive recognition. It’s better for children to be able to identify their father openly, carry his name and inherit from his estate. I’m sure this rings a bell, for instance, for women who have kids or nephews and nieces whose fathers can never have relationships with them because they are happily married to someone else.”
She hastens to add that polygamy is not an Islamic invention, pointing to Tswana, Swati, Zulu and some West African societies that traditionally practised polygamy even without the influence of Islam.
She is vehemently opposed to the view that by prescribing a certain mode of dress, Islam prohibits women from celebrating their femininity. She argues that Muslim women do celebrate their femininity in the right context, and the Koran protects it.
“You don’t have to display it (femininity) to the whole world. You have to en joy it in the security of your home where only your family and husband will see you, but not the whole world. For somebody to see your body and think everything about it is disrespectful,” she says.
Winston contrasts the status of Muslim women with the commercialization of the woman’s body in the western world such that even in media advertising any item targeted at a male audience has to have a woman draped across it.
Winston is writing an autobiographical novel that she hopes will be useful for people who are going to choose to be Muslims. From her own experiences, she knows that they are going to feel that they are going against the grain. In such instances, one needs to have something to read that they may identify with.
“It is not a reference book at all…please…I am not an expert on Islam on any level. I am just someone who has lived through a transition from one way of life to Islam and I’d like to share the experience. I wished I had somebody to talk to. This book does not offer tips on how to survive but just to know that you are not alone,” she says.
Perhaps it will be an eye-opener for her born-again friends who think that Muslims don’t accept Jesus.
She nods, “As a Muslim I believe in all the prophets ÔÇô including Jesus (peace be upon Him). They come to give us a message. But Jesus the begotten son of God? No.”
