Lesson of a Slap
“Don’t you have any shame?” said a booming voice as he slapped my father across his face.
I stood there stunned, my world tilting.
My father was the one everyone feared and respected. No one dared to make him mad or disrespect him…EVER. He was a gentle soul, but he was very strict when it came to right or wrong. Life wasn’t grey – it was black or white. You either knew how to live right and be a good person, or you didn’t. Everyone I knew respected my father for his gentleness and fairness. So, who was this person who, in the middle of my uncle’s wedding, dared to slap my father.
“Come here,” said the same booming voice as he proceeded to pull my father into a tight hug.
“Look at your daughter. She is shocked that I just slapped you.” Both of them looked at me and started laughing.
He was right. I was shocked. I was a young teenager, who had traveled to Pakistan to attend my mom’s youngest brother’s wedding. We were in my grandfather’s house with people gathered to participate in the Mehndi (Henna party). I had visited roughly three summers ago, but the wedding festivities were overwhelming we with the number of people I needed to mingle with. Since, I was the first US born American in my extended family, I was the object of many curious eyes, that were looking to judge me, and by extension, my parents, so I was trying very hard to not stick out.
Now I stood there, like a statue. My father had come back to Pakistan after almost 10 years, and here he was being greeted with a slap! The world as I knew it, was not existing anymore.
I had grown up learning my family tree, so I knew who this person was. He was my mom’s mamoon (maternal uncle), my great-uncle – Mamoon Zia. But I still didn’t understand why he was slapping my father!
My father looked at me, and laughingly pulled me into the hug. Mamoon Zia proceeded to kiss my forehead and hug me, while my dad held on to his hand. My dad then said words to me that remain written in my heart to today: “He’s family and he is my elder. He deserves my respect and love, not my ego. The latter will gain me nothing, and will probably make me lose something. However, the former will gain me his love, respect, and, most of all his prayers. I won’t get small for giving him respect, rather his love will make me grow bigger.”
At this Mamoon Zia turned and took my father’s head in his hands and kissed his forehead. He turned back to me and said “This is why I slapped him, because he is one of the few in our family who knows how to take it from us elders and show us his love. It’s why we all missed him and why he should be ashamed of himself for being away for so long. Your father is a great man and you are very blessed to have him. Make sure you grow up learning how to respect elders the way he does. ”
That was the first of many things I learned about my father in that short one month trip. It showed me a side of him, and a side of my culture, which I had not known before then. It showed me the importance of extended family, the existence of arguments and forgiveness, but most of all it showed me how love begets love.
After that night, I saw Mamoon Zia several times, and each time he would come over and gently tap the side of my face in a fake slap, laugh, kiss my forehead, and hug me. Then he would proceed with great pride to tell all around him who’s daughter I was and how even in pardes (foreign land) I knew my roots and how to respect my elders.
I knew of love and respect before that trip, but it was during that trip I learned how to be humble and gain it for myself. It was a lesson that started with two men who showed me that ego has no place where there is love. It was a lesson that started with a slap.
I lost my father over 12 years ago, and I woke up this morning and learned of Mamoon Zia passing away. So, today, I pray for them to gain the highest ranks of Heaven together and may they reunite up there with a slap and a hug. May God bless you both. Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi rajioun (“To Allah we belong and to Him we shall return”).
