|
Standing Firm in Their Faith
Refugees make time for Muslim observances in busy local lives.
By Karen Lambert
Although Sha Kya Har had the day off from Mount Logan Middle School last Friday due to parentteacher conferences, the 13-year-old and her two sisters still had class. That afternoon, they headed to an apartment across town from their home. Then, along with other Burmese girls and boys, Swa Hay Dar Bi, Sha Kya Har and June Mar Bi learned to read in Arabic, something vital in order to be able to pray in their faith. The three sisters wore scarves over their hair and read right to left from books set on small tables. Together with the other children their voices produced a rhythmic, soft sound that filled the small living room decorated with an Arabic wall calendar and Arabic writings. Sha Kya Har and her family are Muslim, the second most prevalent religion practiced by the more than 100 Burmese refugees who have moved to Logan over the last 18 months. The majority of the refugees are Baptist, followed by Muslims and a few Buddhists, said Alex Mortensen, a refugee specialist for the English Language Center. Some also retain aspects of animism, an old religion often equated with spiritualism. Sha Kay Har’s mom, Ma Htwe Hla, said their religious beliefs in Burma led the government there to isolate them in a village only occupied by other Muslims, deny them citizenship and eventually give them reason to flee for their lives to Thailand refugee camps. In the U.S., the family is learning to hold to its beliefs while living alongside those of many faiths.
In Cache County, an area where Latter-day Saints, Baptists, Lutherans, Episcopalians and those of other Christian persuasions make up a majority of the population, She Kya Har and her siblings pray to Allah, read the Koran and adhere to strict dietary laws. Jenny Willmore, an LDS woman who has befriended the family, said she can tell it takes commitment for them to stay true to their beliefs. For instance, the family doesn’t eat meat from the local restaurants or grocery stores because it’s not halal, or cut in accordance with Muslim laws. Muslims also don’t eat pork. Other meats they eat must be cut by a knife not recently used to cut pork, and in a humane manner with gratitude to God, as dictated by their religion. Their religion also prohibits drinking alcohol. “It would be hard to be in a new place and to stand firm about your religious beliefs and say, ‘No, I’m sorry I can’t eat that rice because it has ham in it,’ Willmore said. Willmore said her children have been lucky enough to have had other Muslim friends before the family from Burma, but she still believes the Burmese children are a good example to her son and two daughters. “It helps them realize when they stand up for their beliefs there is more of a sense of admiration,” Willmore said. “Probably not just in a religious way. You start to realize you really admire people who (do what they believe). My kids have realized it doesn’t hurt their friendships.” Her family has been invited to join the Ma Htwe Hla and Ba Hlaing family for prayer and has enjoyed new foods at their house. In addition, Willmore has tried to help the family maintain their religious beliefs. For instance, she made sure that Ma Htwe Hla knew that in American schools the children have a right to take time away from class to pray during the day. However — at least for now — Ma Htwe Hla said she wants her daughter to pray where it’s quiet, not at school. At home, the father, Ba Hlaing, likes to chant in Arabic, something Yasser Nazzal, director of the Logan Islamic Center, says is a common practice among Muslim men. It can be a way of increasing their skill in the language. To remind themselves of the call to prayer, the Ba Hlaing and Ma Htwe Hla family have a sort of alarm system shaped like a mosque, the word Muslims use for a church, that plays Arabic music at the appropriate times throughout the day. Nazzal said many Muslims in the U.S. program have similar reminders on their computers to alert themselves of the call to pray. While Christians’ holy day is on Sunday, and for Jews it is on Saturday, Muslims give Friday special significance. Sha Kay Har doesn’t attend the Arabic class every Friday, but when she does, she and her siblings sometimes take the bus or walk several miles to learn along with other young Muslim Burmese boys and girls. The children attend the school to learn Arabic so they can read the Koran, including The Opening, which is part of their prayers. It’s only considered authentic if stated in the language in which it was written.
When the three children first walked into the apartment Friday, several men with black hair and olive skin were sawing a fiberboard table into pieces on the living room floor, then hammering the panels together in order to make what appeared to be little tables or a bookcase. “For books,” explained Sha Kya Har. When the men were done, they took out a vacuum to clean up the sawdust. Then they spread out a long rug on the carpet and set their new creations on top in the form of low tables. After additional people wandered in, 10 children gathered around the benches where they set their books. The older children had the Koran, while the younger children had smaller primers, said Sha Kya Har afterward. She reads the bigger book now, as does her older sister, Swa Hay Dar Bi. One Burmese man, their teacher, sat at the head of the table. During the class everyone read aloud in Arabic at once, while the teacher watched, sometimes reading to himself or singing, sometimes rocking forward and back. Some of the children followed the rocking movement. Some of the mothers sat in the kitchen talking while the exercise went on. Another woman, Jnut Bi, gave her 3-year-old daughter, So Ma Ya, a bowl filled with white rice and what she said was halal meat, purchased in Salt Lake City from the Halal Market. Sha Kya Har and her family are far from their place of birth. Their parents fled from civil war in Burma to refugee camps in Thailand about a decade ago. After eight years in the prison-like camp, the United States granted them and their children amnesty in the U.S. Now they’re seeing that in this country friendship can be larger than beliefs, larger than labels. “In the United States, people help each other,” Ma Htwe Hla said, through a translator when asked how she likes it. “They love each other.”
Read the full article originally printed on Sunday, May 3, 2009 in The Herald Journal