Polygamy Preppers Guide: Five Fictional Stories About What Can Happen If You Are Caught Unprepared for a Polygamy Storm. Lust, Betrayal, Sex, Violence, Mayhem.

By Dee Hazim

Dee Hazim is a wife, mother, grandmother, great grandmother and a native Kansan. She worked in the mental health field for more than 17 years as a case manager and mental health technician serving mentally ill children and adults.
She was the co-chairman of the annual Islamic Conference, The Fountain of Abundance for the premiere session in 2013 and continues as co-chair for the October 2014 conference.
From 1997 to 2001, Dee held the title of Coordinator for the Topeka and Shawnee County Public Librarys African American Writers group. She also participates as a member of the Kansas Writers Group.
Dee is the founder and organizer of the Sisters Social Islamic Womens Organization for the Islamic Center of Topeka in Topeka Kansas. She is a member of Interfaith of Topeka and served as its Vice-president for 2013-2014.
Dee was awarded the 2013 Positive Leadership Award by the Fountain of Abundance Islamic organization. Dee has worked as a volunteer in the womens prison Dawah (propagation of religion) efforts.
Writing has been her passion since her teenage years. She is a published song writer and singer.
Dee has been a business owner and entrepreneur for over 20 years.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499017830

Dee Hazim

Dee Hazim is a wife, mother, grandmother, great grandmother and a native Kansan. She worked in the mental health field for more than 17 years as a case manager and mental health technician serving mentally ill children and adults. She was the co-chairman of the annual Islamic Conference, The Fountain of Abundance for the premiere session in 2013 and continues as co-chair for the October 2014 conference. From 1997 to 2001, Dee held the title of Coordinator for the Topeka and Shawnee County Public Librarys African American Writers group. She also participates as a member of the Kansas Writers Group. Dee is the founder and organizer of the Sisters Social Islamic Womens Organization for the Islamic Center of Topeka in Topeka Kansas. She is a member of Interfaith of Topeka and served as its Vice-president for 2013-2014. Dee was awarded the 2013 Positive Leadership Award by the Fountain of Abundance Islamic organization. Dee has worked as a volunteer in the womens prison Dawah (propagation of religion) efforts. Writing has been her passion since her teenage years. She is a published song writer and singer. Dee has been a business owner and entrepreneur for over 20 years.

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Copyright © 2014 by Dee Hazim.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2014908697

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-4990-1784-7

                Softcover        978-1-4990-1785-4

                eBook            978-1-4990-1783-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 05/09/2014

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Contents

Foreword

Go, Chick, Go!

What The Right Hand Possesses

All Money Ain’t Good Money

Spin The Bottle

Al-Nisa (The Woman)

Prepper’s Guide

Nisa Club Code Of Ethics And Conduct

Glossary Of Terms

References

Testimonials…

Dee has written a book that should be read by Muslim men and women. It has everything in it. I laughed out loud and I had tears in my eyes. I believe I even said WHAT?? a couple of times.

Good relationships have to be nurtured by both the man and the woman with mutual respect from both sides. I had never really given much thought to polygamy in my own life because my spouse and I have been married for 46 years and the subject only came up during our studying and reading of the Qur’an.

We discussed the necessity of polygamy during the time of the prophet (PBUH) because of the wars that left so many women alone but we never related it to today. While I was reading Dee’s book, I asked my husband what he thinks about polygamy. He said he believes in it because it is in the Qur’an. I could have been one of the sisters in Dee’s book!

—Dorothy Hasan

The Polygamy Prepper is an important book for Muslim women, no matter what their background because a woman needs to be prepared for whatever happens. If men read the book too, it might urge them to discuss bringing home a co-wife before actually doing it. That discussion didn’t seem to take place in these stories.

—Yvette M.

While the author’s unique writing style keeps you we’ll engaged, and the stories most intriguing, the hurtful and alarming real facts paint the sad but true insight of most polygamy situations.

—CA

Polygamy Prepper’s Guide, although a fictional work provides a look at characteristics and situations in women’s lives that we have known personally, or have heard stories about them. This book is entertaining, emotional and points to an opportunity to become educated and empowered.

—R. Azeez

Fantastical scenario’s written more in the style of allegories. The writer takes readers on intense sporadic reality disconnect that make one wonder are these characters for real.

—M. Wells

A heartfelt congratulation on your outstanding new publication Polygamy Prepper’s Guide. I just read it with great admiration and respect. Your work in this book is interesting and very timely and a must read for anyone who is IN or thinking about entering into a polygamist marriage; male or female. Your book is fiction, however it is intriguing and it provides great information and advice. It’s very intense and hard to put down once you begin reading.

—Jaleel H.

With God’s Name, the Merciful Benefactor, the Merciful Redeemer

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my mother who did not live to see its completion. She however was instrumental in its development due to her understanding and frank conversations that disclosed the true reality of love and marriage.

Also to my husband who has patiently motivated me to complete this book.

To the many women who have experienced betrayal, unbelievable hurt, loss, and injustice.

Foreword

Why Polygamy in Islam?

Definition of Polygamy: A system of marriage whereby one person has more than one spouse.

If ye fear that ye shall not be able to deal justly with the Orphans, Marry women of your choice, Two or three or four; but if ye fear that ye shall not be able to deal justly (with them), then only one, or (a captive) that your right hand possess, that will be more suitable, to prevent you from doing injustice. (Quran 4:3)

The religion of Islam allows its believers to practice polygamy with a stern warning. Of the One-billion five hundred million Muslims in the world research had shown that ONLY 2% PRACTICE POLYGAMY. Muslims have the OPTION for the practice of polygamy unlike the Traditional Mormons for which it is a prescribed practice.

The Qur’an warns Muslim men that take on more than one wife:

"And you will not be able to treat your wives with equal justice however much you may desire . . . ."

(Qur’an 4:129)

Polygamy is practiced more among Hindus and Mormons than Muslims. Most Muslim men feel they cannot afford the expense of maintaining more than one family. Polygamy is not common or expected to occur in most Muslim homes. Because it is written in the Qur’an as an option, it does not however mean it is something you are obligated to accept in your family. Remember just 2% OF THE MUSLIM population practice polygamy. It’s not common and rarely taught as a way of life for 21st century Muslims.

As a side note few successful polygamist relationships have been witnessed that can be use as a model or guide to encourage more Muslims to consider Polygamy as a feasible option. In fact the opposite is true. There are many more Horror stories associated with the haphazard attempts to institute polygamy than Love stories.

This book contains five fictional stories of women who were derailed because they were not prepared for polygamy or for what some call The other women scenario. Although the five short stories are fiction, an addendum at the back of the book is for Polygamy Prepper’s who need support and guidance finding their way through the emotional process of preparing themselves for the possibility of a polygamy storm coming their way.

Hadith:

(Sayings of traditions or Prophet Muhammad)

Trust in Allah (God), but tie your camel.

Bible:

2 Timothy 4:2 Be prepared in season and out of season . . .

Girl Scouts:

Be Prepared

Defining the enemy can be an important exercise to help you ascertain the battle which may lie before you. It may sound cliché; however we have on occasion been described as our own worst enemy. Men and women in the 21st century are familiar with the concept of a Game Plan most frequently associated with tactical maneuvering in sports which surely imitate war events. A successful marriage also needs a Game Plan and clear understanding of a functional OFFENSE and timely DEFENSE when necessary.

God willing this will not be a war for which you are unprepared. The Greek historian Thucydides observed that people go to war out of honor, fear, or interest. Polygamy can affect all three of these subjects of concern without a shadow of a doubt. HONOR, FEAR, or INTEREST, you decide.

And say, O my Lord, I seek refuge with You from the whisperings of Shatan and I seek refuge with You, my Lord lest they be present with me.

Al Muminun (The Believers)23:97-98

Qur’an

Go, Chick, Go!

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"Assalamu Alaikum, (peace be upon you) sisters!" Hafsa announced as she welcomed other African American Muslim sisters who had gathered inside the Al Muminun Islamic Center. She joined them as they awaited the first call of prayer to begin Jum’ah (Friday) services. Several brothers and sisters were already prostrating, offering sunnah (extra) prayers in the large Musallah (prayer room).

Searching for their unassigned but territorial seating places on the floor towards the rear of the Musallah, the women and children made their way in quickly before the Jum’ah (Friday) Prayer service began. They filed one-by-one to their ideal seating areas on the new plush carpet, which had been part of the recent renovation. The once tiny prayer hall, with its dingy white walls, was now beautiful and inviting. Teal-blue carpet emphasized the pale green-and-yellow inlay of the white gold-veined marble tiles of the surrounding walls. Arabic calligraphy adorned the oversized stained-glass doors of the two entryways, one for brothers and a separate entrance for the sisters to enter the Musallah. A domed skylight provided natural light that added a serene majestic feel to the entire room. While some Muslims completed their sunnah prayers, others chatted quietly before the required silence during the khutbah (sermon).

Ramadan (month of fasting) would be starting in just a few weeks, and the women had been making plans for elaborate community iftars (breaking the fast). Decisions had to be made concerning who would cook the food and what educational activities would be scheduled during that month.

Mothers and young children continued filling the areas toward the back of the prayer hall while men and some young boys moved towards the front to be seated. Older children were rarely taken out of public school for Jum’ah Prayer but a few were present for today’s service.

Hafsa sat in her usual place on the floor resting her back on the cool marble wall. Although she was approaching her middle 50s, she was still agile enough to make full prostrations and arise from the floor. She was aware, however, that age was creeping up on her. Her back wasn’t as strong as it used to be, and often, without warning, her legs would become stiff. Gray hair was taking over black. Hot flashes were starting to plague her and interrupt her sleep and, of course, her stiff knees popped loudly when she stood after sitting in one position for a long period of time.

One day, Allah (God) willing, she would be joining some of her older sisters in the three rows of chairs provided for those who could no longer move easily from the floor to an upright position for salat (prayer). For now, she thought, I will enjoy the view while sitting on the floor with all the other younger women. Rather than sit with her legs crossed in her preferred position, she now found it more comfortable to stretch her legs out in front of her, hoping they would be less likely to cramp up or get stiff when the call for the congregational salat was made.

The Imam’s (leader of prayer) subject was "The Journey for Taqwa" (God Consciousness.) The khutbah (sermon) lasted longer than usual, and the crowd was getting restless. People checked their cell phones for the time and others just shifted their positions in annoyance. Very few Muslims were able to take off all of Friday afternoon; therefore, getting back to work was a must if they were on someone else’s clock.

The call for salat was finally made, and the congregational prayer offered. After salaaming (peace) out, some hurriedly made it to the exits having no time to hear announcements while others remained in the Musallah performing extra prayers.

A small group of women and children slowly made their way through the sister-only designated exit into the common areas. The coatroom for the sisters had been remodeled in soft green and yellow tones. Although many left their shoes on the floor, wood shoe racks had been added as well as comfortable lounging chairs for those who were in no hurry and wanted to socialize.

Sister Kareema was exiting the Musallah area with a new sister in tow. Kareema was full-figured and had a beautiful smile and gorgeous white perfectly aligned teeth. After clearing her throat, she announced to all sisters within earshot:

"Excuse me, sisters, but I would like to introduce you to a sister new to our Masjid Al-Muminun. This is Sister Regina. Please show her some love. Regina was a tall, attractive early-30s-something woman whose oval face was adorned with a diamond nose ring. The sisters introduced themselves to Sister Regina one-by-one. Hafsa was the fourth in line and welcomed the sister with a big hug and Assalamu Alaikum. Regina was not only new to the community but she was also a new Muslim. Walakum Salam," she said for the fourth time, always with a tentative voice attempting to pronounce the Arabic word correctly.

Kareema continued acting as the independent welcoming committee. She gave Regina a complete rundown of all the centers activities through the week and assured her that as a new Muslim to the community she was welcomed to participate.

Regina seemed slightly uninterested with what Kareema had to say and began searching for her navy-blue high heels in the sea of shoes on the floor.

Hafsa was glad to have new sisters in the community. More often than not, the community seemed to be getting smaller year-by-year. She was one of the few who had noticed the migration to other communities such as the Islamic Center of Greater Kansas City and others that were less racially divided. A lot of the Masjids in Kansas City were predominantly one race only. The Pakistanis went to one place; Somalis to another; and Arabs to still another. African Americans attended Al-Muminun.

Hafsa thought about the ayat in the Qur’an: We have made you tribes and Nations so that ye may know one another. She was positive this didn’t mean Muslims of different nationalities offering Salaams (peace) to one another only at Eid Prayer (celebration after Ramadan and Hajj) where Muslims of all nationalities come together twice a year before returning to segregated lives. This was similar to the congregations of some churches on Sunday. People of different nationalities gathered in their own segregated places of worship and neighborhoods. Surely Allah (God) is not pleased with what we do.

Regina wore a multicolored red-blue-and-black scarf that she had loosely thrown over her head, and one that Hafsa recognized. On an impulse, she had purchased one exactly like it at the Jones Store but refrained from wearing it because it seemed too bright and just not her style. Seeing the vibrant scarf on the new sister encouraged Hafsa to rethink wearing her own identical scarf with the right Abaya (full-robe dress).

Dressed in a stylish long-sleeved red tailored blouse and a matching chiffon skirt with a split that seemed to show a little too much leg, Regina bent over trying to lace the high-heeled navy pumps that she had finally found. This young sister reminded Hafsa of her own daughter Suri who had just turned 33 and was yet to be married.

Regina and Suri both wore the same style of clothing, but Hafsa had to admit that Regina was prettier. She made the scarf work by lightly covering her professionally styled hair. Her outfit, however, didn’t look appropriate for Jum’ah. Hafsa realized there was a learning curve for new Muslims sisters and that eventually each would refine her attire to a more appropriate style of covering for Muslimahs (Muslim women).

Kareema continued to chat it up, acting as the welcoming committee even though Regina was only half paying attention to the conversation as she continued lacing up her shoes. Kareema reminded Regina that it takes time for a new sister to learn and offered her services and phone number to answer any questions she might have.

Regina paused and announced in an annoyed voice: "I don’t need introductory information because Brother Muhammad has been doing Dawah with me for the past three months. I have all the information I need!" she announced proudly.

Noisy chatter quickly subsided and the group of sisters in the coat room became deadly silent as if someone had just announced, Ham sandwiches are being served for lunch! Unaware that all eyes were on her, Regina continued buckling her shoe.

Sister Maryam was the first to speak. With her arms folded tightly below her breast and speaking in a dry, barely restrained monotone voice, she said, WHICH… . BROTHER… MUHAMMAD?

The confrontational manner of Maryam’s question caused Regina to feel uncomfortable. She looked toward the speaker, not quite sure what had changed the mood of this once friendly crowd.

The sisters turned to Regina awaiting a reply. Even Kareema, who had been a chatterbox up to this point, was silent. Tension continued to mount in the small newly remodeled coatroom, much like that of a faceoff between Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier just before a match. Who was going to be the winner today? Which Muhammad had been secretly keeping company with this new sister?

There were six possible suspects and four of the six had a long history of doing under cover Dawah (propagating the religion) so to speak. The question remained: was it Muhammad with an UD, ED or AD or OD. Was Muhammad his first name or last name? WHICH ONE? This community of Muslim women had experienced hurt and pain at the hands of brothers who used all kinds of excuses in the name of Islam for fulfilling their sexual desires. The combination of the words brothers, Dawah, and young women raised an immediate red flag. Many of the past Dawah efforts of the brothers had much more to do with their libido and ego rather than their passion for sharing the religion. As far as many sisters were concerned, they were all suspects.

Looking as if she were sizing up the new sister for a rumble if the wrong brother’s name came out of her mouth, Maryam waited for an answer to her question and she was becoming impatient. Maryam had been through some very hard times with her husband Najee, and everyone in this Masjid (Place of prayer, Mosque) knew it except Regina. Maryam shifted her body position and rested her balled-up fists comfortably on her hips before taking a step toward Regina. I’ll ask my question again, Maryam said with a louder more impatient tone, WHICH BROTHER MUHAMMAD?

Maryam didn’t want a repeat of the scenario she had had with her husband Najee and a Somali sister last year. Evidently Najee had convinced the sister that his wife was cool with the idea of accepting a co-wife and encouraged her to attend Jum’ah Prayer at Masjid Muminun for a few weeks, and then the truth came out: She had been invited by Najee, who was keeping company with her and her two children on the weekends. Maryam was small but mighty. She had cornered the Somali sister in the coatroom and informed her: You needn’t plan on being a co-wife, a second wife, or NO WIFE to Najee. He already has two illegitimate children whose baby-mamas I have to deal with and that was punishment enough for me.

Najee was no longer dealing with the sweet Maryam he had married 10 years before his out-of-wedlock children were born. After this latest incident, Maryam had been on tilt. This was the last straw, and Najee knew it. After the incident, Maryam informed him she had a new name. Just call me Lorena Bobbitt. If you put me through this kind of hell one more time, I’ll cut off your head… but not the one on your shoulders! Najee was so afraid of Maryam that he had been scared strait. He knew she meant every word of her promise to slice and dice him.

Maryam was a changed woman from the one Najee had married a decade ago. He had sneaked around to see other women in the early days, and she tried to reason with him by quoting the Qur’an (Muslims Holy Book) and Sunnah (Life of the Prophet). She asked him, "Do you believe your eternal soul will not make it to jenna (heaven or paradise) but will go to hell if you don’t straighten up your act? Those logical arguments fell on deaf ears and still didn’t stop the Somali situation. Maryam realized that only true Muslims would worry about their eternal souls and submit to what Allah (God) has said, so she would only talk to Najee in the language he could understand, cutting and killing."

Maryam hadn’t collected curio-cabinet figurines or teacups like other women did. She enjoyed a large collection of switchblades and hunting knives, and Najee had seen them daily since the Somali debacle at the masjid. Maryam always had one or the other by her bedside and one in that oversized leather Coach purse she carried. Najee suspected that there were many other bladed weapons in hiding places he didn’t know about. Maryam, in full Abaya, (robe style dress) attended every major gun show that came to town, purchasing more knives to add to her collection. She would come home with a smile on her face and display her new acquisitions, reminding Najee that they were all for him whenever he might need one. He was well aware that Maryam might snap and use one of her deadly weapons if necessary. He had thought about leaving her several times, but the fear that she would hunt him down like an animal made him stay put.

Maryam stood poised, waiting for this new sister to let the name Najee cross her lips. Kareema had seen Maryam in action and thought, Oh, Allah, please don’t let me have to pull this sister off Regina like I had to do when she went after the Somali sister. Astaghfirullah (God forgive us)!

Regina knew they were all waiting for her to speak a name and felt an uneasy pressure to quickly announce the brother’s name. She cracked a weak smile trying to regain some of that loving sisterly spirit she had felt just a few minutes ago but no longer saw a hint of in the unfriendly faces around her. Taking a deep breath she said, Brother Muhammad Karim.

Hafsa’s heart sank like a rock. She, along with the rest of the sisters, never thought Muhammad Karim’s name would be mentioned as one in the gang of Muhammads with the bad reputations. Hafsa always thought of herself as the least likely one to be clueless as to what was going on in her relationship with her husband.

Immediately she went on the defensive and decided there must be a good reason her husband had not been on the up-and-up about his activities, if in fact he was the Muhammad Regina had mentioned. Hafsa continued to have some reservations about the name she had just heard with her own ears. She had reason to feel secure about her 38-year marriage with Muhammad. They had five children and three grandchildren to show for it. Her husband was not the type to throw everything away for a fling, so there must be some reasonable explanation for whatever was going on. She had always considered her marriage to be better than most, but by no means perfect. Occasionally there would be a bit of an upheaval over small things, but, for the most part, nothing major had ever rocked their world so severely that it couldn’t be rectified through discussion.

If this brother is my Muhammad, Hafsa reasoned to herself, all could and would be explained. Surely there is more to this story. It may have been necessary to converse with this sister without confiding in her she reasoned. Maybe he’s her Wali (spiritual advisor), and she needs his help to find a good Muslim man in the community to wed. Whatever it is, I’m certain it can be explained.

The other sisters who had been distracted while awaiting the infamous name to be announced now returned to the task of putting on their shoes in silence and preparing to exit the Mosque—all except Maryam. She was still mumbling to herself. "Always some shit. We can’t even have peace at Jum’ah." Maryam’s angry self-talk could be heard as she grabbed her leather purse from the floor and stomped out of the coatroom slamming the newly remodeled door so hard the pane glass inserts rattled. She, no doubt, would be giving Najee hell for lunch today, and he would have no idea why.

Regina paused momentarily when she heard the phrase, Always some shit, and knew the tide had turned. If she had heard Maryam’s comments, so had the rest of the sisters who were acting as if she had just left the coatroom saying, Have a nice day. The indifference from these women had affirmed to Regina that she needed to rush to get her shoes on and get the hell out of the place as quickly as possible.

Hafsa now noticed her Muslim sisters avoiding direct eye contact as they headed toward the exit. She was quiet and not sure what to do or think of this unusual situation in which she found herself engulfed. Deciding to take the high road, she moved toward the new sister and reached for her hand a second time giving her a quick "Assalamu Alaikum. I’m Brother Karim’s wife, nice to meet you."

Caught off guard, Regina’s head snapped back slightly and her brow furrowed in a puzzled look of surprise. She responded with a dry, Nice to meet you, releasing her hand from Hafsa’s grip and quickly making her way toward the exit. All traces of the friendliness the young woman exhibited just a few minutes ago when Kareema was making introductions were gone.

Hafsa had neglected to put on her own shoes with all the commotion in the coatroom and felt compelled to follow Regina barefoot into the parking lot. She wanted some answers and there was no time like the present to get them; her shoes would have to wait. She needed to see something with her own eyes but wasn’t sure what she was looking for. Was her husband the real Muhammad this pretty young woman had spoken of or was it an unfortunate mistaken identity?

Regina walked quickly; her high-heels sounding a rhythmic drum beat of clicks on the concrete parking lot. As if being chased by the devil, Regina made her way to the far side of the parking lot as quickly as possible. Only waiting momentarily for her driver to give her access to the vehicle, she reflected on the last scene in the coatroom and the wife she wasn’t expecting to meet. Regina was surprised to be standing face-to-face with a wife she dreaded meeting. According to Muhammad, women were exempt from attending Jum’ah Prayer and she assumed most stayed home.

Hafsa followed closely behind not noticing the warm pavement beneath her feet as she attempted to keep up with the high-stepping sister who seemed to be in a great hurry all of a sudden. Regina had stopped abruptly in front of a white late-model Lincoln Continental and paused as if she were waiting on someone. There he was! Confirmation of what Hafsa knew deep in her heart of hearts; her Muhammad was the brother Regina had named.

A storm of thoughts whirled in Hafsa’s head and her entire body tingled as if lightning were striking all around her. What is happening here, she wondered as she stood frozen like a statue in the middle of the parking lot. Am I really seeing who I think I’m seeing?

Sister, you forgot your shoes! Kareema spoke with a loud voice while moving closer and offering Hafsa the leather ballet flats she had worn to Jum’ah prayer. Taking the shoes without speaking, Hafsa was too distracted to put them on. Her head swirled and her stomach churned. What’s going on? she kept asking herself over and over.

Suri was the only one of her six children still living in Kansas City. Hafsa was so grateful the weekly request she had left on her daughter’s voicemail asking her to attend Jum’ah had been ignored again. Oh, Allah, Hafsa whispered. I don’t know what this is but I’m grateful my daughter isn’t here to see it.

Hafsa had questions she needed answered, and Suri’s questions would just complicate matters. Hafsa’s hands trembled and her legs shook as she gazed at her husband’s car from a short distance away.

Sister Kareema’s voice sounded far away to Hafsa, "Are you all right, Sister Hafsa? I’m sure brother Muhammad is doing nothing more than Dawah with Sister Regina, Kareema said unconvincingly. Raising her voice to chastise even the innocent brothers passing by, Kareema announced, Because they are so scandalous and spineless, most of the brothers around this masjid do everything under the cover of darkness, and it’s not Dawah." Several brothers within earshot quieted their conversations but refused to give Kareema’s accusations an audience today.

Kareema was known to hold her own and would have no problem, if provoked, telling the secrets of certain brothers to the entire community. The brothers at Masjid Al-Muminun secretly called her the Mouth of the South. A foolish brother named Khalid had tried to confront her after Jum’ah