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The secrets I share with Allah

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The secrets I share with Allah
theOriginal
04/23/04 at 15:55:16
[slm]

I am arrogant, but I can be self-abusive at the same time.  It comes naturally to me.  To hide the weaknesses that are so visible to me, I use a mask of cynicism, sarcasm, and on a good day - dry wit.

Those days are few when I find myself admitting to my acute sense of hopelessness - to my unbearable craving for humility.  And only then do I let my noisy world fall silent so I can hear the urgency of my own heartbeat.  And only then do I return to times of greater sorrow, to the secrets I share with Allah only.  The ugliness in me, and the beauty in others.  The weakness in me, and the strength in others.  The countless questions in me, and the direct solutions in others.

I can smell it sometimes.  That's when I know that I have forgotten to sustain myself with dhikr and duaa.  When I wake up in the middle of the night, trembling, sweaty yet shivering, frustratingly scared.  When the smell of a memory overpowers me internally, and when through the dark stillness of the night, the vibrant colors of my past are racing through my mind.  When I am taken to the River of Blood (officially: Kagera River), and the brutal killings of the men and women in need.  When I can see them falling on the other side of the river, atop a cliff, being pushed to their final return.  In all His Mercy, I can only pray that they died believing.  What a tremendous test of faith, to die brutally at the hands of someone you trust.  May Allah ta'Ala protect us all.

The Tanzanian government did not know what to do with the bodies, so they set up fishnets to retrive the bodies, only to be dumped in a mass grave on their side of the border.  That place is overrun by rebels now, young men who don't have normal dreams.  They dream of justice on a good day, and revenge on the rest.  They trust no one, they respect you less.  Their eyes were cold, and I remember one of them spitting in my direction when he saw me.  Severin stood boldly in front of me, his hands in the air.  I stood behind him, feeling strangely safe.  I know that the sole reason his large hands were trembling was the rifle pointed at his head.  We were protected by a member of the army, but this was not his land, and these were not his people.  All he could argue with was reason, and he flashed our UN documentation in front of the rebel in a frenzy.  The boy must have been my age, I doubt whether he could read.  

Severin's black forehead glistened with beads of sweat.  In all my years of knowing him, in all his years of service to my father, I had never seen this man sweat.  He was tall and very good looking. Strong, and intelligent. He carried himself with so much grace.  And yet, on that day he looked old.  His grey hair looked greyer. His wrinkles were overexposed.  He is someone who has my respect and who earned my trust, someone I will never forget, and someone I pray to see in Jannah.  May Allah ta'Ala reward him for his kindness, and may He grant him hidayah.  People like Severin, their courage makes me cry, their honesty makes me bleed, the depth in their eyes makes me realize my insignificance in the grand scheme of things.

As we climbed back into the Land Cruiser, he flashed the straightest set of pearls my way.  It was his way of letting me know he was relieved.  He described the days when the river ran red, I cried more wholly than I ever have, before and since.

Six hours from the border we reached the capital, as the sun was setting.  Kigali is nestled in a valley.  They call it the city of lanterns because you can see them lit in every house at night to the far reaches of the mountaintops.  I call it the city of silence, because I have never heard the silence of death so closely before.  During the day the hustle and bustle of the marketplace was something straight out of the movies - with the sound on mute.  No one spoke unless it was necessary, and I finally understood the vacancy in me.

Human beings are wretched creatures.  We forget the instant we can, just like Severin and Yahya said I would.  We forget because it's the easiest thing to do.  We forget because if we remembered, we couldn't function another day, and we forget because our arrogance demands us to.  Remembering is too risky, and the conscience is best not wounded.

As much as I crave the silence, I run from it harder.  It hurts to think about the burning babies.  It hurts to remember the hollow laughter of the elderly waiter who buried all of his children.  It hurts to think that these people had to move on.

It is almost Fajr now.  I still can't sleep.  My eyes are sore from crying.  The pain in my heart hasn't subsided.  The smell of death is suffocating me.  This is one of the secrets I share with Allah.
04/23/04 at 16:45:58
theOriginal
Re: The secrets I share with Allah
superFOB
04/23/04 at 20:30:37
[slm]

What the **** were you doing in Congo?
Re: The secrets I share with Allah
theOriginal
04/23/04 at 23:11:25
[slm]

Tanzania...

and Kigali is the capital of Rwanda.

How do I answer that Q...I was working, or something like that.

Wasalaam.
04/23/04 at 23:57:04
theOriginal
Re: The secrets I share with Allah
superFOB
04/24/04 at 02:02:11
[slm]

Were you there during the genocide? It was 94! You must be a little kid then. Or was it a more recent trip? Pockets of Hutu rebels are still there, I've heard. Am I missing something here? Sorry for being so curious, but I am a cat now.
04/24/04 at 02:02:46
superFOB
Re: The secrets I share with Allah
Nadeem
04/24/04 at 06:25:45
[quote author=superFOB link=board=library;num=1082750117;start=0#3 date=04/24/04 at 02:02:11]Sorry for being so curious, but I am a cat now.[/quote]

Hey!!!!!!

U mocking me, superFOB?  :'(



;D
:D
Re: The secrets I share with Allah
theOriginal
04/24/04 at 11:14:58
[slm]

I actually went after the end of the major part of the genocide. I went in 1999, 2000, and 2001, for 2-3 months at a time.  At that time, the conflict was dwindling down, but every now and then you would hear of some other brutal backlash.  The churches where dozens and dozens of people were burned have been locked up.  No one has been inside since, and they have placed human skulls on the outside.  It's hecka sad.  You can see those men and women accused of 'Crimes Against Humanity' walking around in pink shirts and shorts, chained through the ankles...

Dying without purpose, killing without cause...what a sad world this really is.  

Oh and thanks for reading...it was sort of inspired by your post on kibr, I sat thinking about the shreds of true humility in me, and when I found none, I became very sad. :)

Wasalaam.
04/24/04 at 11:41:57
theOriginal
Re: The secrets I share with Allah
Rabia
04/24/04 at 16:40:34
[slm]

What can you say after reading something like that? All that comes to mind is "alhamdulillah", because I've always been told, over and over again to remember Allah (SWTA) and say "alhamdulillah" not just when being informed of or witnessing good, but also when being informed of or witnessed the bad, or in this case horrific (and that word doesn't do justice).

Thanks for sharing.
Re: The secrets I share with Allah
superFOB
04/24/04 at 23:05:17
[slm]

WOw, you got some brave parents sister! I mean a war zone is not your next-door neighbor's internship you know. Anyhow, violent conflicts leave deep scars, regardless of age, welcome to the real world. The LEAST we need to do is to not forget to thank Allah (SWT) that He, through His infinite mercy, wakes us up every morning with limbs that still work and dear ones who are still in good shape.
Re: The secrets I share with Allah
Nadeem
04/24/04 at 23:52:54
[slm]

Wow. Thats pretty deep. :( And nicely written.


Thanks for sharing sister.

[wlm]



Re: The secrets I share with Allah
theOriginal
04/25/04 at 02:37:33
[slm]

Clarification: I was there with my father.  He took me because he got sick of watching me struggling to read shafiq ur-rehman's "shaguftay".  I had stopped eating, and the bananas he left me every morning with flags on them "EAT ME EAT ME" were starting to rot (my dad is AWESOME, Alhamdulillah).  So I'd come back from work, and read anything I could find (imagine, no TV)...and I was starting to lose weight, and I began to look like some of the refugees we worked for.  So he was going on a mission, and he says, "let's go get some lokhi baigan aloo from rwanda" ... and I said "okay, can I bring shaguftay along?" ...I lost Shaguftay, btw...anyone know what happened at the end of "Barri Aapa"? It's been killing me, since.  I was reading at the pace of a page a day, and I lost it right when it was ending, goshdarnit!

Wasalaam.
04/25/04 at 02:38:55
theOriginal
Re: The secrets I share with Allah
Halima
04/25/04 at 05:06:36
[slm]

Beautiful, poignant, sad and true Sis JustOne.

I went to Kinshasa, Democractic Republic of Congo (DRC) in August 2001 on official business using my national passport (Kenyan).  

Upon arrival at the airport, the authorities were hostile and angry at a Tutsi having the audacity to come to Kinshasa.  I was travelling with a colleague, a French Man who was using the Diplomatic UN Passport (UNLP).  We were met at the aircraft by a colleague from the Kinshasa office who does all the protocol work of clearing arriving staff members through customs.  The office here in Nairobi had obtained a visa for me through the DRC Embassy here.  

My French colleague and I were unaware of what was going on as we were seated at the diplomatic lounge waiting for our Congolese colleague to clear us through.  After a a while he came and narrated what happened and why it took so long.  The authorities wanted to know why a Tutsi was coming to Kinshasa.  They were told I am not a Tutsi but a Kenyan and a UN staff member on official business.  They were showed my passport and they said that no Kenyan looked like me after which my Congolese colleague asked them if they knew all the tribes in Kenya.  Of course they didn't but let me through barely conviced.

I told my Congolese colleague: But I don't even speak French!  How could they think I was a Tutsi?  He said there were many Tutsis leaving in Uganda who did not speak a word of French.  Upon arrival at the office, the incident was reported and I was given a letter indicating that I was not a Tutsi, I was a UN staff member and was there on official business.  I was to carry this letter with me for the whole week I was there in addition to my UN ID.  Other colleagues in the office were surprised to see me there as they thought I was a Tutsi.  One colleague took me around town and everybody was staring at me.  I asked why they would not approach and ask me right out what I was doing there.  She said: The fact that you are confident enough to walk around town makes them unsure.  No Tutsi in their right mind would dare do that.  So, I asked what the Tutsis ever did to the Congolese?  The answer: They helped the rebels in Eastern DRC fight against the government.  Boy, that was frightening.  But I was well treated by the Congolese colleagues in the office and every night, I was invited to one party or another at several residences.  My stay was non-incidental after the airport, I had fun BUT I was happy to leave nonetheless!

Somalis and Tutsis looke alike!

[wlm]

Halima
Re: The secrets I share with Allah
bhaloo
04/25/04 at 08:00:36
[slm]

Subhan'Allah, what an experience.


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