Shah - The Imams daughter : my desperate flight to freedom

Hannah Shah

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Published in 2009 by Rider, an imprint of Ebury Publishing
This edition published by Rider in 2010

Ebury publishing is a Random House Group company

Copyright Hannah Shah 2009

Hannah Shah has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner

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The author would like to thank the following for permission to use copyright material: HarperCollins Publishers for the excerpt from The Invitation by Oriah Mountain Dreamer (1999) and Puffin, an imprint of Penguin Books, for verses quoted from Please Mrs Butler by Allan Ahlberg (1984). Every effort has been made to trace and credit all copyright holders but if any have been inadvertently overlooked the author and publisher will be pleased to make the necessary arrangements at the first opportunity.

Dedicated to My Little Chicken you
are precious and I love you.
I pray that you will be rooted and
established in love.
Ephesians 4:17

H.S.

For Mum.

The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy. Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it. Through violence you may murder the liar, but you cannot murder the lie. Through violence you may murder the hater, but you do not murder hate. So it goes. Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can.

Dr Martin Luther King, Jr

Believe nothing, O monks, merely because you have been told it.

Or because it is traditional, or because you yourselves have imagined it.

Do not believe what your teacher tells you merely out of respect for the teacher.

But whatsoever you find to be conducive to the good, the benefit and welfare of all beings that doctrine believe and cling to and take it as your guide.

Gautama Buddha

The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, and wiser people so full of doubt.

Bertrand Russell

One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: that word is love .

Sophocles

And now, these three continue forever:
Faith, hope and love,
And the greatest of these is love.

1 Corinthians 13:13

Hannah Shah is a young woman of Pakistani Muslim parentage. After she left her family home, and finished her schooling, she took a degree in Theology and Religious Studies. Since first speaking out to the press, she is increasingly in demand to give talks and support others facing similar experiences to her own. She married for love in 2008.

Her website is www.hannahshah.com. It offers confidential help to people in similar situations to those described in this book.

Special thanks to my literary agents in the UK and the USA, for your faith and belief that mine was a story that should be told. Very special thanks to Josephine Tait, a religious freedom campaigner whose advice, friendship and help has proven invaluable. Thanks to Tom, for being an amazing husband and partner for life. Thanks to Lizzy and Mike, and family, whove given me a safe place to grow and to heal. Thanks to Felicity and James, for providing me with a way out and a gateway into the future.

This is a true story, and it happened to me between the year of my birth and the present day. Some names, details about people and places and place locations (notably in relation to my family) and details of all educational establishments have been changed, to protect my identity and guard against potential reprisals, and to protect the identity of others in my story who may be vulnerable. I am aware of the nature of such risks, but I am equally determined that mine is a story that should be told. For clarification, there is no such town as Bermford the location of the first sixteen years of my life in England, and I have chosen to create a location that does not exist to protect myself and others from being identified, and from reprisals. Likewise, Hannah Shah is a pseudonym.

This book is my own, personal story. It deals with the way that Islam was practised within my own community as I witnessed it when I was growing up. It is worth pointing out that there are many Muslims in Britain and around the world who have had only good experiences of growing up within their faith, including women who are free to live full, independent and liberated lives and Imams who practise lawfully and have an extremely positive influence on their communities. This book is in no way a denigration of Islam generally. It is a personal account of my own life experiences.

D id you ever play monsters under the stairs? I guess a lot of kids did when they were little. Its Dad, of course you know its your dad. But you pretend its not. You pretend not to know that hes the monster, just to make it a little more scary, just to justify your running, screaming, crying, head-over-heels laughter.

Youre off to bed, and Mum doesnt quite approve. Shes right behind you, gentle hands ushering you up the stairs. She thinks Dads monster act will give you nightmares. You think thats rubbish. You love it. You secretly hope tonights the night. Tonight Dads going to spring out and give you a great big monster surprise.

You pause on the third step of the staircase.

Dad, youre not going to be a monster tonight, are you? Secretly, youre praying that he will. Not a monster under the stairs.

Then, suddenly: Roooaarrrr! Roooaaarrr! ROOOAARRR!

Hes there! Its him! Its so much fun and so deliciously, wonderfully scary . What do you do? Rush up the staircase and jump into bed, but risk getting got by the monster in the process? Or dash back down again into your mothers ever so patient, protective arms?

Its Dad with a lamp held in front of his face, all silly expressions and shadows in the darkness beneath you. Its Dad, growling like a scary monster, yet all the while trying to choke down his gurgling laughter. Its Dad, fingers curled like a dragons talons, grabbing for your skinny, pyjama-clad legs, as you, a little five-year-old child, scream and laugh and play act scared and try to get up to bed before he can get you.