Family by Mohamed Cisse
“FAMILY…functional, dysfunctional, uniquely personal.” – Don Riesett, Writing Mentor & Teacher
It was a typical Friday afternoon. I had just finished praying Maghrib and decided to watch some TV. My mother came downstairs all dressed up and said, “Let’s go.” I was confused at first, then quickly realized that we were supposed to visit the mosque and pray. I felt really tired from playing basketball so I tried to convince my mom to go without me. She wasn’t happy that I was trying to get out of going to the mosque so we had a whole argument about me not valuing my religion and culture enough. She got frustrated and left without me. I didn’t have to pray, read the quran, go to the mosque, or celebrate all the holidays. I felt like she was being unfair to me and unappreciative. I went to sleep early that night.
The next day, I woke up feeling bad about letting my mom go to the mosque alone so I decided to apologize. But before I could do anything, I found myself in someone else’s bed and it was way more stiff than mine. I got up and went to the bathroom to splash some water on my face to fully wake up. I looked in the mirror and saw that I had switched sides. I’m caucasian! I have straight long hair and my voice is different. What kind of voodoo magic is this? I rushed down the steps and found that my house is not my house. I entered the kitchen and found a lady making some breakfast. I asked, “Who are you?” in a concerned voice. She replied, “Stop acting stupid, Connor, it’s too early for this. We have to leave for church in the next twenty minutes.”
Ok, so I have two concerns right now. One, why is this lady calling me Connor, and two, why the hell am I leaving for church? I asked her the question again,“ Who are you?” in an angry voice. She replied, “I’m your mother and if you don’t hurry up and get ready I’m not taking you to your tennis match.” I guess this was God trying to make me appreciate my religion from the argument I had with my mom. I’m not going to lie though, compared to what I went through with African parents, this will be a breeze. I went back upstairs and played along with this “test”. I put on the suit that was lying on the bed and the dress shoes I found in the closet. If I was going to do this, I gotta at least look nice.
I went back downstairs and had a full English breakfast and got in the car to go to church. (That feels so weird to say.) When we arrived, I was getting ready to pray like a Muslim but realized that I was a Christian in this test. Everyone was probably thinking what is this boy doing? After praying, we went back home. I was happy at the thought of eating Malian food, but remembered that I was about to eat some caucasian food. I ate some chicken and fries, and I kid you not, though I came into this with an open mind, the food had no damn seasoning. What torture.
By this time I had to go to play tennis. I have had no experience except some time playing last year in Physical Education. I hope I have adapted to Connor’s skills in tennis or I will fail horribly. I took a tennis racket and the game started. I have never in my life had so many balls hit me in 45 minutes. I’m pretty sure they were targeting me, and my teammates gave me a wedgie in the locker room. What bitc….. Let’s keep this PG now. I can’t stand this caucasian nightmare. Please god, I have had enough with this life, take me back. I learned my lesson.
Mohamed Cisse
10/18/24