In Their Own Words
{conversations with Central Asians}
“You are so blessed that you never knew your mother-in-law. I wish mine were dead, then maybe my husband would love me.” –Fahtosh
TURKEY Winter 2008
Mother-in-law Woes
Three young ladies wearing totally black outfits and head coverings were sitting on a bench in a park near my home.
I have seen women from very conservative Muslim families dressed this way in the city where I live, but never really had an opportunity to talk to them. I prayed that one of them would leave so I could sit down with the others and talk for awhile. It was amazing how fast the Lord answered that prayer! Almost instantly one of them got up and left.
I sat down and said, “Hi how are you ladies doing? Aren’t children a handful?” A three-year-old boy belonging to one of them had just run out into the street and was almost hit by a truck. The younger of the two, whom I will call “Fahtosh” said, “yes, this boy is always into mischief. I can’t take my eyes off of him for a moment. I don’t want anymore children because they are so much work and so hard to take care of.” I told them I had seven children, couldn’t raise them without my husband’s help, and that we use the Bible as our guidebook to train them.
Instead of talking about the Bible, they started asking about my husband and my mother-in-law. With surprise they asked, “Does your husband really love you?” When I said that he does, the other lady, Fahtma, said, “Well, surely, if he loves you, then you must have already done your time with your mother-in-law.” She asked how much time I had lived with my mother-in-law and if she was a cruel woman.
I told her in America we generally don’t live with our mothers-in-law, and I actually never knew mine because she died when my husband was twelve-years-old. Fahtosh said, “You are so blessed that you never knew her. I wish mine were dead, then maybe my husband would love me. When I tell him I am unhappy he says, ‘Obey my Father, and do everything my mother tells you. Don’t complain and keep the house clean.’” She said, “My son is more important to my husband than I am. I hate my mother-in-law! She is so cruel and nothing I do pleases her.”
Fahtma jumped in and said, “You don’t know how awful it is to be living with a mother-in-law. Before I was married I didn’t have to dress in this black sheet. I went out with my friends, went to the mall and shopped. I loved life and had all the freedom I wanted. Then I got married and everything changed. My mother-in-law said I had to dress in black all the time. I hate this thing! She also told my husband that it was not good for me to go out or to be spending time with friends, so now I can’t even come to this park without the permission of my mother- or father-in-law. I feel like a prisoner. I can’t do anything to please her, she is never happy. I can’t talk to my husband because he always takes her side.”
As I think back on this conversation, all the things I might have said come to mind. I told Fahtosh that maybe she was going through this difficulty now so someday she would treat her dauther-in-law so much better than she was treated. The conversation digressed a little more about how awful Fahtma’s husband was, how much she hated life and couldn’t imagine how great it would be without a mother-in-law.
We said our goodbyes and hoped aloud that, if they were allowed to go out of the house again, perhaps we could see each other again. My big regret though, was that I didn’t tell them that Jesus is our best friend, and that the only hope for women in their world, and in all the world, was in Him.