‘Just for Bafana!” shouted my friend Shamima jubilantly, her face-flag creasing as she smiled.
Then she did something out of character: In the face of all the excitement around her she voluntarily chose to pray more than she was supposed to.
Sporting a bright green headscarf and an oversized green-and-gold jacket, and with a vuvuzela in her hand, Shamima had joined more than 1 000 Muslims as they congregated for the Friday prayer in an open area of a building adjacent to Soccer City on the opening day of the Fifa World Cup.
According to Islamic law, the Friday prayer is a duty that must be observed by the community. The Qur’an demands its observance so strongly that it goes as far as to tell Muslims to stop working to pray together.
And so, even in the midst of the most important sporting event South Africa has ever hosted, Muslims at Soccer City found a way to observe this Qur’anic requirement first.
And they did so with panache and patriotism. Never before has the Jumuah (Friday) prayer been as bright and colourful. The familiar green and gold was everywhere. Men and women wore their South African flags proudly — as oversized bandanas, as wigs, as pants.
Flags were draped over shoulders, wrapped around waists, painted on takkies and even displayed in the form of a bead and crystal trim on the corner of an elegantly draped black scarf.
Some, like my friend Shamima, added to the compulsory portion of the prayer — and prayed more!
Now, this gathering may not seem so unusual in light of the hype and euphoria that most South Africans are experiencing at the moment. But it is unusual for the majority of Johannesburg-based South African Muslims — a community which, on the whole, is extremely pedantic and unshifting about much to do with religion, from proper dress, to not listening to music, to the correct length of an imam’s beard, the length of a man’s trousers and, most especially, on gender relations within sacred space.
Until now, of course. Thank you, Fifa!
None of the men who attended picked on the brightly coloured clothing that is usually frowned upon. For many women, it was the first time outside of the Holy Mosque in Mecca that they had attended the Jumuah prayer.
And for most of us, it was the first time in Johannesburg that men and women had prayed the Jumuah prayer in the same space without a veil or a curtain between us.
In fact, this was just how the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) observed congregational prayers more than 1400 years ago. And, in many parts of the modern Muslim world, men and women follow his example and pray in the same space. Women also contribute actively to that space. While it is not compulsory in Islam for women to attend congregational prayers, it is certainly not forbidden.
Classical Islamic sources, however, point to the undisputed fact that in two instances women are singled out and specifically ordered by the Prophet to attend congregational prayers. And are even told to participate in the celebrations. These are the Eid-Gahs (gatherings) of the two annual Islamic festivals, Eid ul Adha and Eid ul Fitrah.
But the majority of South African Muslims choose to ignore this Islamic duty. In Johannesburg and Durban an ongoing campaign to revive this Prophetic tradition on the days of Eid has been greeted with great opposition and very little support.
Surprisingly, though, some of the campaign’s more severe detractors were present at the Friday Fifa-Gah.
For me, a Johannesburg-based Muslim woman and one who has constantly been waging a gender jihad, opening-match day was a victory.
It was a victory not just for Muslim women but for men too. While women experienced a strong sense of belonging and connectedness to their community, no Muslim men reported being so spiritually weak that they were unable to concentrate on God because they were distracted by attractive women.
Bafana Bafana may have scored a draw that day, but opening-match Friday was a victory for we Muslims. We managed to behave as the Qur’an describes us — “a community of the middle way, justly balanced”.
We prayed first — together. And then we partied.