Strength I Didn't Know I Had

The story of Almira (pseudonym), a young Uygur Christian

I suppose I panicked – after all, my father had died without warning almost a year before, and now it seemed that my mother was also dying.

Shouting the news through my neighbour's door, I ran down the narrow steps of the apartment block with my cousin Ilyarjan, who had offered to take me back home to our village.

As we drove through Kashgar, I grieved to see more and more of the Uygur-language signs were being replaced by Chinese characters, and every second person on the street was Chinese.

Our culture was slowly being eroded; even life in the villages was changing as Uygurs were crowded out of their homes and jobs.

I awoke from my daydream as Ilyarjan pulled up at a friend's house, just outside the town.

"Come on, my mother is here – she's waiting to go with us," he explained.

I stepped out into the lightly falling snow and followed him, shivering, towards the house. I was surprised to see several of his friends standing about in the courtyard, but thought nothing of it – I was far too worried about my mother.

"Almira! Come this way... let's have a cup of tea," said Ilyarjan's mother, Tornisa, who appeared suddenly and kissed me on both cheeks.

She took me into the living room and fussed about, pouring tea and peeling an orange.

There was a strange excitement in the air – something I didn't expect when my mother was near death. I had the growing suspicion that something was wrong, and that was confirmed when Tornisa finally came over and sat next to me, holding out the bowl of tea.

"I'm so glad you've come" she said, nodding her head. "You'll make an excellent wife for my son!"

"What?" My hands were shaking. How could I have been so stupid?

So many of my friends had already been stolen as brides – it was common practice for Uygur men in northern Xinjiang.

But then I remembered the day several years before when I had given my heart to Jesus. There was no way I could marry a Muslim, especially not Ilyarjan who had been married twice before.

As soon as I realised what was happening, I felt a strange sensation as if God wrapped himself around me like a shower of stars, giving me strength I didn't know I had.

"Aunty, I can't marry a Muslim. Don't you know I'm a Christian?" I said.

"Well, we know you're a good girl," she replied. "And you'll give up that foreign religion as soon as you marry Ilyarjan!"

Escape attempt

I jumped to my feet and headed towards the door, but before I could escape, Ilyarjan grabbed my hand and hit me across the cheek.

With a surge of anger, I wrestled with him and finally managed to break away and ran out onto the street.

Ilyarjan soon caught up with me and began beating me right there in the snow, until I could hardly stand. Then he and his friends dragged me back into the house.

By this time, Tornisa had made herself scarce.

Praying constantly, I remembered my mother's advice – that if I was ever stolen as a bride, I should break everything in sight.

So when his friends left the room, I stood up and threw everything I could get my hands on.

The events of the next few hours are still a blur in my mind. I fought and argued with Ilyarjan, telling him I would never marry a Muslim. At every chance, I insulted him – something a good Uygur would never do!

All the while I prayed and asked God to get me home before dawn – otherwise, whether Ilyarjan had touched me or not, I would be shamed into marrying him.

Finally at around three in the morning, Tornisa came back into the room, looking worried as she saw the broken glass and ornaments. "Ilyarjan – give it up, she'll only cause problems for you," she pleaded.

"We'd better take her home."

This was a real miracle – nobody ever escapes from a bride-stealing!

But one of Ilyarjan's uncles drove me home and dropped me outside the apartment at four that morning. I was cold, bruised, aching and scared – but God had answered my prayer.

Wed to Christ

Since then, I've realised just how much God loves me. My Christian friends had been searching for me all night, but even when they couldn't find me, God protected me.

Now I'm even more determined to spend my life serving Him.

Of the 10 million Uygurs living in China, less than 100 are Christians. The rest are Muslims, suffering under Communist Chinese rule.

Many of them struggle with broken marriages, drug and alcohol addictions, unemployment and discrimination.

Please pray that God will use me to reach them with His love!