NRI Encounters: My First Meeting With A Bosnian Muslim
Was buying beer at an Auckland supermarket when I saw this very strange looking bottle with Gothic lettering. I asked a male employee which country it was from, but he had no idea.
While I was still trying to decipher the tiny writing, a striking platinum blonde, in her late 20s/early 30s, arrived at the beer section and started re-arranging cases of beer. Usually women employees in supermarkets aren't the best people to ask about beer but since I was having a hard time I thought, let me ask her.
She took the bottle from me and after exactly 5 seconds said, "Holland." I was impressed and said, "Wow thank you, that was quick. None of the male employees here couldn't figure out." She said she wasn't an employee of the supermarket but a merchandiser from a local beer company.
She had an East European accent and her name badge said Marika.
I thanked her again but kept the bottle back on the shelf as it had 10% alcohol v/v. I wanted to have a drink, not start a tractor!
I got another brand of beer and after checkout while walking towards my car, the same woman comes up to me with three bottles of beer (in picture). She said because of my interest in beers, she was giving me these free samples.
I said, "Look, you are very kind but I never accept free stuff so I can't."
She said, "Please, you must. These are just samples. I always keep a few in my car to give away."
I said, "We journalists have a bad reputation for taking freebies. So I'm extremely conscious of that and never accept them. But since you are so insistent and seem like a nice person, I can't say no. But it has to be done on my terms so that I don't break my no-freebies rule. I will accept your beer samples on one condition, let me buy you a coffee. Then we are even."
She said, "You don't have to buy me coffee for this. But if you are so wedded to your principles, I don't mind having coffee with you." She gave me her business card.
I asked her, are you from Eastern Europe? She said, "I'm from Bosnia." Marika was just a work name. Her real name was a longish Muslim name, which I couldn't comprehend.
I said, "You are the first Bosnian I've met. But you don't look like a Muslim, you look regular European. I never imagined there were platinum blondes in Bosnia."
She said, "Bosnian Muslims are very liberal. We don't go to mosques, keep the fast or wear Muslim clothes. We are not like Pakistanis or Saudis."
Zing!
But she added, "Unfortunately, the Saudis have been pumping large amounts of money into Bosnia to build supermarkets. And they add a rider - for each supermarket they build, they also build a mosque and madrassa. So the entire country is dotted with more supermarkets than we Bosnians need, and slowly the Saudi funded clerics are changing our culture. Burqas and long beards are now appearing in the country. Youth are being turned towards extremism."
That was disappointing to hear. However, after thanking her again I said, "Hope to meet soon."
Back home, I looked at Marika's card for exactly 10 seconds and ran it under the hot water tap so that even in my sleep I wouldn't be able to contact her.
Didn't want some Ibrahimovic to call me and say in an East European accent: "Why you had kofi with mai wife? I veel find you and keel you."