If you met me eight months ago, you would have considered that I was a man with a perfect life, living in Detroit, Michigan. I had a beautiful wife, a five-bedroom home, and a 2015 F 150 Ford truck that I bought without leasing it. The small necessities paid with my salary from working in a factory that made car parts for assembly plants. I worked as an injection molder, making car bumpers. My job paid well as I made $25 an hour, working 60 to 70 hours a week. Within a month, I was grossing over $6000 a month. Life was good, so I thought.
Within this past year, I found out my wife was cheating on me. I saw my life crumble before my eyes. I went through a divorce that was not civil. I lost half of a joint bank account I shared with my wife. And the house, I was ordered by a judge to vacate immediately. To get over my grief, a few friends advised that I needed a vacation. The yearly pilgrimage to Mecca, known as the Hajj. I had two months' worth of vacation time saved, so with my trip to Hajj, I planned a tour of the Middle East. With the money I used from a secret bank account that was over $125,000 my ex-wife did not know existed, I funded my trip. I spent three months planning for my pilgrimage and a five-city tour in the Middle East.
Once Hajj was over, I toured Mecca and Medina for two weeks. Next, it was Syria and Cairo for additional two weeks, and Dubai was the last stop. Before my trip to the United Arab Emirates, I traveled to Iraq. When my flight arrived at the Baghdad International Airport, Asr prayer was about an hour away. I caught a taxi to the Al Yaseen Mosque located in the Kadhimiya district. There were numerous mosques I could have prayed in, but my heart was set on this particular one. I had a friend who also visited Iraq a few years ago and showed me pictures of the mosque. The architecture was very appealing. I vowed to pray there once I had the chance. When I arrived, I gave the taxi driver fifty dollars and told him to wait for me. It was not a problem for him as he parked his car and prayed with the other men and me. After prayer, I was on my way to the Andalus Hotel Suite.
I met Zulaikah while I was riding in the back seat. I was taking pictures over the Ak'mah Bridge. When I caught a glimpse of her dressed in black garb from head to toe. When I saw her climbing over the safety rail, I pleaded with the driver to stop. He hit the gas pedal hard, which caused me to drop my phone. I immediately ran to Zulaikah.
"Please don't jump!" I pleaded in Arabic. "I don't want to live. My life is hell," Zulaikah replied in Arabic.
"We all go through some bad times in our lives. It does not mean you have to kill yourself. Come on down!"
"Laa! (No)," she replied.
Just before I knew it, Zulaikah stepped off the ledge. I don't know what came over me. One moment I was standing there, the next thing I was holding on to her wrist with a death grip. She struggled to loosen my hold. While I pulled her to safety, her niqab that covered her face fell to the water below. I guess all the extreme weight lifting at the gym paid off.
The woman that stood before me was beautiful. Before I can say another word, the cab driver intervenes as he utters, "Laa.(No,)" He tried pulling me away by the arm. I understood his concern. It was not permissible for a Muslim man to touch a Muslim woman if they were not married. I didn't feel comfortable leaving this troubled woman alone. She was most likely to try and jump again.
Suddenly a car quickly pulls up. That's when I met Sheik Abdelnoor. He was dressed in a beige kur'tah and wore a white turban. Abdelnoor walked past me without acknowledging my existence. He grabbed Zulaikah by the arm and dragged her to his car while yelling at her in Arabic. I tried explaining to Abdelnoor that Zulaikah might need medical treatment. He explained that he was the woman's wali (her protector), and he would take good care of her. When I looked at the girl, she had fear in her eyes. He ordered her to get into the car. She immediately obeyed. He again thanked me and gave me a business card for his matchmaking services. The Sheik sped off after forcing Zulaikah into the back seat.
I returned to the cab and continued on my way to the hotel that was 20 minutes away. I picked up my phone from the floor and looked at the footage of the woman.
The cab driver looked at me through the rearview mirror. He could tell I was thinking about Zulaikah.
"Don't worry about the girl. She's in good hands," the taxi driver reassured. However, the fear I saw in her eyes said differently. I felt that I had to do something. When the cab driver arrived at the hotel, I got out of the car. The cab driver retrieved my luggage from the trunk and gave it to me.
"Shukran," I replied.
After the taxi driver gave me my luggage, I offered him a proposition.
"Hey, how would you like to make some extra money tomorrow," I asked.
"What you have in mind."
"I need a chauffeur who knows the city."
"For twenty-five dollars an hour in American currency, you have a deal.
After arranging with the cab driver, I checked into my hotel room and ordered room service after I settled in. As I waited for my meal, I opened my laptop and uploaded a video to edit. After every city, I gave quick video updates of my tour on my social media accounts. As I was editing the video in Sony Vegas software, I came across the woman's video that jumped off the bridge. I looked at those 8 seconds for at least two hours. Something inside me compelled me to check in on her well-being, but I had no way of locating her. I was becoming frustrated.
When my food arrived, I ate and prayed Maghrib prayer. I asked Allah to protect Zulaikah and ease her whatever suffering she is going through in my prayers. I also added in my prayers that if it's Allah's will that I help her, please provide away so I can do so. Once I ended my prayer, I decided to take a shower. As I removed my thobe, Abdelnoor's card fell out of the pocket. I knew Allah answered my prayer. Now I had a way to locate Zulaikah.
The next morning, the taxi driver was outside my hotel room. He asked me where I wanted to go. I requested any place where I can get a quick breakfast and the address that was on the business card. The cab driver took me to a storefront restaurant. I ordered the makhlama. It was a hearty low-carb dish consisting of lamb, sunny side eggs, tomatoes, other ingredients I could not visibly make out.
After my meal, I was driven back to the Kadhimiya district, where the Sheik's offices resided. When I got out of the vehicle, I looked at the sign above the door, which reads in Arabic. "Marriage Matchmaker."
When I walked into the storefront, I had walls plastered with posters, flyers, and local businesses' handbills. The office was not much to look at, as it showed signs of aging. The only attempt to make the place look decent was the coat of paint. The paint job was lousy; whoever did the work forgot to add the primer.
"Assalam Alaikum."
"Wa' Alaikum Salam."
"I recognize you from yesterday. You are the man that saved the girl. Are you an American?
"Yes."
"I knew it when I heard your accent! I have good ears. My name is Sheik Abdelmoor. What is yours?"
"My name is Asad."
"Very good strong Muslim name. How may I help you, Asad?"
" The woman I saved yesterday, I was making sure that she was okay."
"She's fine," Sheik replied as he blew off my concern with a calm tone.
"I need to make sure. Can I see her?"
"You know you cannot see a Muslim woman unless you are going to marry her or are married to her."
"Yeah, but if you were there, it would be fine since you are her wali?"
"I am afraid I have to decline your request, my friend."
"Sorry that I wasted your time," I replied as I headed for the door feeling defeated.
"Wait, there is a way you can see her," Sheik replied. I turned around and inquired.
"How!"
"You seem to be smitten over her. I am willing to marry her to you for one night."
"You will marry us for one night?"
"For a small fee, of course."
"You are kidding."
"You must've heard about temporary marriage, I assume."
"I know what a Muk'tah marriage is."
"Good, then you know you can be alone with her and practice your rights as a husband," Sheik replied with a smirk.
I was shocked that a Muslim with an exalted title to his name would set up a pleasure marriage.
"What is the process," I inquired. I know I sounded suspicious, but I had to play along if I was going to check on Zulaikah's well-being."
"You give me a hundred dollars, and I draft up the marriage contract. I performed the ceremony over the phone, and you are good to go, my friend."
Once I paid the fee, he performed the marriage over the phone. I was permitted to be alone with Zulaikah for eight hours. He said the woman was not available at the moment. Abdelnoor asked for my phone number, assuring me that he would call when Zulaikah was ready. I gave him my number before I went window shopping to see what souvenirs I could ship home.
An hour passed, and I received a phone call from the Sheik. He gave me an address to an apartment. When I arrived, I paid the taxi driver the sum of his hourly rate and asked for his number to contact him for his services. He gave me his card, and we parted ways.
When I arrived at the apartment, I knocked on a door that looked decades old. The dingy turquoise paint was chipping off the rotten wood door. After knocking on the door, Zulaikah answered. She was wearing kohl eyeliner and pink-colored lipstick. She covered the rest of her body with a black chador. Zulaikah rushed inside so no. one would become suspicious of a man standing outside her apartment.