Finding my faith

What does it mean to practice faith as a student? Altaf Kazi, a 24 year old Muslim studying MSc Publ

Over the summer before I started my Masters, I had decided to make some changes in my life. I had decided to make an effort to get closer to my religion. What inspired me? The realization of knowing that I needed to be closer to my Creator before I returned to Him. I thanked Allah for the fact that I had found my faith. Never before had I felt more at ease and comfort. However the changes I had made so far had been in the confines of my house.
 
And so I started my first day of University thinking to myself if my experience be different from my times at Birmingham as an undergraduate? Would people recognize me and what would they think? For now I was wearing a white robe and had a beard growing. I knew that for my mid afternoon prayer, lunch and just walking around campus, I would have to confront this and have those awkward conversations with people.
 
My first major test came on my first day when I had to go to the prayer room. I can remember it quite vividly. As I reached the prayer room, I saw many smiling faces leave the prayer room which put me at ease. I had already preformed my pre prayer ablution in the gents' toilet downstairs only to realize that the prayer room has a ablution facility provided! I thought argh! I didn’t have to struggle in the sink!  But that was my first day, and I blame my nervousness and lack of confidence to ask others. So I lined up in prayer, but before it started I knew that trying to practice my religion at University wasn’t going to be as hard as I thought.
 
I thank Allah that after that first day my fears have been put aside. Through the Islamic Society I got to meet a lot of like-minded people. The people I met shared their experiences and I drew strength from their confidence. It's true that being alone is better than bad company and being in good company is better then being alone. This is something that I experienced. Being a part of the Islamic Society meant that I could feel comfortable discussing issues that faced young Muslims such as how bad the weather was, how we wanted a pizza from Broadway 2 or Pizza Haq; we also discussed other issues like identity and the world and how it is today.  
 
My experiences of the role of faith as a student has led me to strongly believe that only a shallow person judges a person on appearance; a wise person waits for him to speak and watches his actions. My experiences in University and more importantly with my Creator have enabled me to be the strong and more confident person that I now am. I have met many talented Muslims and non Muslims and had many conversations with them. I feel confident about the future of this country in knowing that people understand the role that faith can play in life and how they should not simply tolerate it but accept it for the value that others hold.

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What David Hockney has to tell us about football

Why the sudden glut of blond footballers? A conversation I had with the artist back in 1966 gave me a clue. . .

In 1966, I went to interview David Hockney at a rather run-down flat in Bayswater, central London. He was 28 and had just won a gold medal at the Royal College of Art.

In his lavatory, I noticed a cut-out photograph from a newspaper of Denis Law scoring a goal. I asked if he was a football fan. He said no, he just liked Denis Law’s thighs.

The sub-editors cut that remark out of the story, to save any gossip or legal problems. In 1966 homosexual activity could still be an offence.

Hockney and a friend had recently been in the United States and had been watching an advert on TV that said “Blondes have more fun”. At two o’clock in the morning, slightly drunk, they both went out, bought some hair dye and became blond. Hockney decided to remain blond from then on, though he has naturally dark hair.

Is it true that blonds have more fun? Lionel Messi presumably thinks so, otherwise why has he greeted this brand-new season with that weird blond hair? We look at his face, his figure, his posture and we know it’s him – then we blink, thinking what the heck, does he realise some joker has been pouring stuff on his head?

He has always been such a staid, old-fashioned-looking lad, never messing around with his hair till now. Neymar, beside him, has gone even blonder, but somehow we expect it of him. He had foony hair even before he left Brazil.

Over here, blonds are popping up all over the shop. Most teams now have a born-again blondie. It must take a fortune for Marouane Fellaini of Man United to brighten up his hair, as he has so much. But it’s already fading. Cheapskate.

Mesut Özil of Arsenal held back, not going the full head, just bits of it, which I suspect is a clue to his wavering, hesitant personality. His colleague Aaron Ramsey has almost the full blond monty. Paul Pogba of Man United has a sort of blond streak, more like a marker pen than a makeover. His colleague Phil Jones has appeared blond, but he seems to have disappeared from the team sheet. Samir Nasri of Man City went startlingly blond, but is on loan to Seville, so we’re not able to enjoy his locks. And Didier Ndong of Sunderland is a striking blond, thanks to gallons of bleach.

Remember the Romanians in the 1998 World Cup? They suddenly appeared blond, every one of them. God, that was brilliant. One of my all-time best World Cup moments, and I was at Wembley in 1966.

So, why do they do it? Well, Hockney was right, in a sense. Not to have more fun – meaning more sex – because top footballers are more than well supplied, but because their normal working lives are on the whole devoid of fun.

They can’t stuff their faces with fast food, drink themselves stupid, stay up all night, take a few silly pills – which is what many of our healthy 25-year-old lads consider a reasonably fun evening. Nor can they spend all their millions on fun hols, such as skiing in the winter, a safari in the spring, or hang-gliding at the weekend. Prem players have to be so boringly sensible these days, or their foreign managers will be screaming at them in their funny foreign accents.

While not on the pitch, or training, which takes up only a few hours a day, the boredom is appalling, endlessly on planes or coaches or in some hotel that could be anywhere.

The only bright spot in the long days is to look in the mirror and think: “Hmm, I wonder what highlights would look like? I’ve done the beard and the tattoos. Now let’s go for blond. Wow, gorgeous.”

They influence each other, being simple souls, so when one dyes his hair, depending on where he is in the macho pecking order, others follow. They put in the day by looking at themselves. Harmless fun. Bless ’em.

But I expect all the faux blonds to have gone by Christmas. Along with Mourinho. I said that to myself the moment he arrived in Manchester, smirking away. Pep will see him off. OK then, let’s say Easter at the latest . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 22 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times