I’m 54, raised in rural Utah, 8th generation LDS, RM, BYU grad, temple marriage, 4 children. Everything was going as planned. You don’t have time to hear my/her excuses/whining about the divorce many yrs. ago. I was so numb I didn’t fight. She got the house and 80% of my income. She staked out the moral higher ground, claimed I cheated, beat the kids, used cocaine; all lies. Not a scrap of evidence that stood up in court. They moved back to Utah, she turned the kids against me. When I realized I was ruining even Christmas I decided it was best if I dropped out of the picture. When she remarried I stopped the alimony. When each kid graduated from high school I dropped a quarter of the child support. Let them get scholarships, grants and loans. Technically I’m a dead beat, lived in a ratty apartment for years and earning nearly six figures.

Bishop believed some of her lies and dis-fellowshipped me. Hard to repent of things I didn’t do. I won’t lie to get a TR back. Forbidden to take sacrament and did anyway. Tithing; she wanted another 9% to pay on her part and the first Bishop wanted me to keep paying 10% on all of it. That would have left me with 1%! Stopped tithing because of this. I blamed the Bishop for my troubles and not doing enough.

Moved several times, old Bishop talks to new one, even worse rumors spread. I tried dating LDS women and neither honesty nor deception worked for me. I burrowed into a deep rut, sat on the back row for Sacrament meeting. Did nothing else for years, decade, more. Who wants an accused … (see x, y, and z above) for a home teacher? A Sunday School President was desperately looking for substitute teachers in the foyer and when I volunteered, he barked, “Not you!” That and other episodes extinguished any remaining hope. Never stopped praying though. Resigned myself to maybe the terrestrial kingdom. Looked forward to death, my life was so over.


By small means the Lord works mighty changes. I went to a convention for my job in a distant city. My plane was rerouted due to weather and I was stuck in the wrong airport. I would miss the first day of the convention. Trips to Utah on the bus taught me how I could get to that convention by the next morning. Taj was this Pakistani guy who sat by me on the plane and was going to the same convention. I have always despised Muslims; from the Israeli 1967 war, to the Iran hostage crisis, to the World Trade centers and two wars in the Persian Gulf. But Taj was different. I found myself offering to get Taj there on time. In his country you can die or get kidnapped doing this kind of spontaneous travel, but he trusted me.

Part way there the bus stopped. A large man took Taj’s biggest piece of luggage. I chased after him thinking it was a mistake, Taj on my heels. He put a 9 mm glock in our face and uttered words not allowed here. For some reason I did not care. I was ready to die. I offered him forty bucks cash to put the gun away, give back the luggage, just forget the whole d****d thing ever happened. He couldn’t shoot me in front of that many people and not go to prison. He took the money with a big smile.

Taj says I risked my life to save his. He told me that now we are brothers. I helped him at the convention further cementing his high opinion of me. He went home and stayed in touch at least once a week. The friendship grew. I visited him once in Pakistan, (what a s**t hole country). A year later his company had him open a new office in a city in America of his choice. Of course he came to be near me, his brother.

Taj is Ishmaili, a smaller branch of Islam. They go to their worship center twice a day to pray, except most skip the morning prayers. After praying for about 20 minutes they eat and socialize. On Friday they pray longer and add elaborate dancing for the younger people. Taj started taking me to the center every day after work. I didn’t have anything else better to do. Even though I didn’t like the spicy food that much it was better than cooking for myself. I started looking for small ways to help these people, may are new in this country.

I had an idea to start a scout troop. The first outing was a disaster. We got to the camp site late, started raining. Everyone was tired, cold, getting wet and the adults were screaming at the boys to hurry and set up the tents. I asked the newly elected senior patrol leader if we should have their nightly prayers. We prayed kneeling in mud, soaked and half frozen. It was all we could do to not freeze around big fires all night. No sleep. At dawn climbing the mountain as planned seemed impossible. I rallied the boys: This is the first trip by the first Paki troop in this city. Will history record it as a failure or success? We can climb this mountain if we pull together. We might be down but are we really whipped? No! The younger boys started to cry but the older ones began to really help each other. Gear and coats were redistributed and feet bandaged. It was hard, almost a death march. Many bleeding blisters, cramping muscles, near collapse from fatigue. But we returned victorious.

I anxiously waited for the angry confrontations with the tiger mothers to come that Sunday night. But instead came thanksgiving. We sent our little boys to camp with you and they return as men. The story of me the token infidel insisting on prayers in a cold rain won the heart of their Imam. Now he will support me in just about anything. We camp twice a month often with 40 boys, over 60 registered. It is not easy, but these 2 years of scouting have brought me more satisfaction than any church calling.

One night late around the fire Taj told me he thinks I have the heart of a true Muslim. He explained a Muslim is first and last devoted to God, who he knows as Allah and I know as Heavenly Father. This is the first of 7 pillars of Islam and the next is purity. He sees me as exemplary in both. But what about accepting Mohammed as the last Prophet, I countered? Taj asked me if I thought Mohammed was inspired and I said, “Of course but… “ Taj interrupted, that is enough. Mohammed is not one of the pillars. What about the Koran? Taj says the Koran is the word of God only in Arabic and since I am too old to ever fully comprehend Arabic, God does not require me to do anything I am not able to do. The Koran is for Imams. English translations are mere literature. Most of the faithful in Islam are illiterate.

What matters, the 7 pillars: Next is prayer which I do about as good as most, helping the poor which I do a lot with his people and according to Taj that includes alimony and child support. Then fasting which is yearly for 40 days but not nights and just an excuse to celebrate nightly feasts which I have done. There is the constant struggle within against evil. Finally Taj says that when we grow old and retire he will take me to Mecca. Everything else is “family traditions” according to Taj. And they are important to families but do not apply to me except to the degree that I desire. No conversion is needed, no baptism, no declaration of faith. It is what it is, according to my best friend and brother, Taj.


Part 2

As if that isn’t enough. Taj says it is not good for man to be alone. He wants to find me a wife. I notice at the worship center few if any unmarried women older than the mid 30’s. They allow a little bit of polygamy in some wealthy families and they only bring one wife to America. Women go or are sent back home if they are not married here. Taj says it is not right for a man to find, date, and convince a woman to wed on his own. A father and mother determine when their children are ready to marry. They prepare a sort of resume which is discretely given to a committee of wise men and women selected by the religious leaders. The committee members review the various resumes and propose matches. Both sets of parents must agree before the couple has a few closely chaperoned meetings. Ultimately either one of the couple is free to accept or reject the arrangement or continue the process at their leisure.

An uncle, a brother or rarely close friend can function in the father’s place if he is not available, which Taj insists upon doing for me. Taj has managed to get his clever wife on the marriage committee and he made a resume for me which greatly exaggerates my good qualities, minimizes my previous family problems. I agreed that if Taj could find a woman (who would have to be more than 20 years younger) interested in an outsider like me in a marginally polygamous community where women are scarce, I would consider it. I had little faith in the process and consented to amuse him.

A few weeks later Taj had not one but three prospects. He apologized that all of them were seriously flawed. Not quite fit for young Paki boys. They had been in America too long, did not read Arabic, were not even fluent enough in their native Urdu to blend in back home comfortably. They were considered too worldly, too willful, outspoken, vain and spoiled. They were young and might respond to a strict mature husband with a high tolerance of their flawed American habits. Their parents were impressed with my income and with what I had done in scouting and otherwise helping them.

Bachelorette #1: Laila was the favorite of Taj. I was astonished by her physical beauty when I met her dressed in a colorful native costume. She could be in the movies. I had noticed her at the prayers and dances as one of the hottest young women around but I never dreamed that a beautiful girl like that would give me a second glance even if I was her age, which was 21. Her model figure is considered too thin to have children easily (by the committee). Laila is shy and has no future plans except to have a family and stay out of Pakistan. I had a hard time making conversation with her; she is so attractive she makes me as nervous as a little boy. After three meetings, Taj informed me that Laila told her parents that she consented to marry me which surprised me, again. Part of me that thinks I’m still young wants her in the worst way. But I wonder if I could make her happy? Or would she just be the ultimate trophy wife doomed to unhappiness in the end, or is this just how it is for these women and I might as well enjoy my good fortune? Taj moaned, how could I hesitate, even dream of anyone better than Laila? But he agreed it was advisable to meet the other two girls with an open mind and then decide.

Bachelorette #2: Gulab lived in another city and I flew there to spend a long weekend with her family. She was of average physical appearance and very friendly and talkative. She was 29 years old, noticeably more mature and responsible. She quickly made me comfortable and soon it seemed like the most natural thing in the world for us to be together. She was in her third year of law school and would be making a good income soon. With no other distractions I could see myself being happy with her. But how could a man willingly select ordinary Gulab over the gorgeous Laila? Later, it hit me; Gulab would have to move away from her family and community. Or I would have move to join hers; this without Taj as my tireless campaign manager and without my growing fan base of scouts and their families. And the thought of ever going through a divorce with an attorney if this risky endeavor didn’t work out scared me. But in a way she is the most rational and safe choice of the three, if the entire prospect is not pure folly. Taj soon reported she was also agreeable to marrying me.

Bachelorette #3: Alina was nearly as beautiful as Laila, and one of her older attractive friends, at age 25. She is taller and more curvaceous and robust with a lot of long thick black hair and captivating dark eyes. She has some Russian heritage giving her a lighter skin which is considered to be a disadvantage. When we first met it was like we had known each other for a long time. She was friendly, and intelligent, even a bit sassy. She had done her homework talking to my scouts and knew a considerable more about me as a person than the material included in the resume.

During the second meeting only a couple of days later, when out of earshot of her chaperoning mother, Alina told me about a dilemma she faced. She had just graduated with honors in psychology and social anthropology. She wants more than anything else to continue in graduate school and become a clinical psychologist. Her people seem happy, but hidden beneath the surface she sees a tremendous need for a professional therapist who is one of them. Her father disagrees and if she doesn’t give up this foolish career plan and get married by the end of the year, he is shipping her back to Pakistan. If she runs away then she will have violated the community’s trust compromising her ability to help them. I assured her that I would encourage and support a wife, whoever she might be, to follow her dreams into this kind of career.

By this time her mother was asleep. After a couple more hours of intense conversation, Alina, her voice dropping to a whisper, mentioned that all of the girls do quietly flirt and sometimes go on secret dates with guys. Except (snicker) shy Laila known for her squeaky clean reputation. Alina wanted no secrets in her marriage and she had one I should know. It could get her sent back home never to marry and possibly killed by angered distant relatives. At age 16 she got drunk with this college guy from Texas and they went to bed four times. She worried constantly that he would return and blackmail her. If I did not select her over the virtuous and lovely Laila, that would be understandable. But she would inform her parents that yes, I was more than acceptable if I could forgive and forget this horrible mistake in her past. I replied; that was 9 years ago and he probably doesn’t even remember your name. So stop beating yourself up. This roused mom and ended the discussion.

Taj says it is decision making time. Dithering further will accomplish nothing. Who should I marry, if any of them? I notice that I have written one paragraph about Laila and Gulab each and three about Alina. Is not Alina a classic example of a damsel-in-distress, the most common bad reason to get married? The two other girls will probably do just as well if not better if I don’t select them. But trusting, beautiful, idealistic Alina; this could make or break her whole life. Yet, I hesitate.


Later

Tommy monsoon isn’t the only one to the rescue. I agreed to marry beautiful Alina- less than half my age, future psychologist and forgiven secret madeleine. Laila actually seems relieved and happy for us. I don’t know about Gulab. Alina’s father doesn’t care if she continues her education after she is married, as long as I concur with it and he doesn’t have to pay for it.

I told a few family members about my plans but spared them many details. They have been distant for years and judgmental. They only inquired if it was a temple marriage. When I replied, “Not even close, “ that stopped the conversation.

Did I counsel with my Bishop? Does he not begin every conversation with an admonition to repent? How dare I consider any new relationship as long as I have I serious unresolved transgressions? Alina agrees to show up for church with me on Sunday morning once in awhile, nothing else as long as her parents don’t find out. My family tradition. People at church ignore her, probably think of her about the same as if she was a paid escort.

Alina had a little problem with her visa running thin and we did not want to tempt her father to change his mind and send her home. The wedding was held about a month after we met and it was quite an event. Rather expensive too, but now that I am not supporting the poor (as in my ex-wife and kids) I can afford it.

Alina tells me she is so grateful every day; looking forward to her classes and the next step to fulfilling her dream to be a clinical psychologist, secure in her privilege to remain in the US indefinitely, running a more affluent household (although she is thrifty), her new status in her community as fully adult. She does everything she can think of to please me and I try to do the same for her but do not even come close to doing as much as she does.

The wedding night was better than my first one. She was extremely inexperienced but a willing student. I worry if I am meeting her expectations at night. Taj tells me that the women talk about their husbands and according to his wife …. Alina is happy she does not have to keep up with the high demands of some of the other wives of younger men, both in the kitchen and the bedroom. Taj says I could “ride her a little harder if I wanted.” I think he is just kidding around and I am satisfied with things as they are now as long as she seems to be too.

Alina rescued me and gave me back my life in more ways than I rescued her. A friendship within an accepting and interesting community is not a small thing but it may not last. A good marriage will. I have both.