Sssshhh

I can hear it now

The faint sound growing profound

Waves crashing as the crescendo mounts

No, please, this can’t be happening

Heart

Beats

Intense

Heat

In a soul which has been incensed

By beautiful insanities before which were

Wrought with anguish and grief

No, not again

Whizzing butterflies
Echoing joyous cries
Flying from trapeze to trapeze
Chaotic emotions intensify
Interlacing with gastric fluids
Melting my insides

Stop!

Please,

Cease the bittersweet ocean of commotion
That breathes life into lifeless seeds

Please,

Pay heed to the excruciating screams that were
Once diamonds of jeweled dreams

Please,

Resist the mistress of deception, seductress of innocence
Before she makes me bleed
Before her intractable wrath is unleashed

Confound you Love

Stay away from me

I am cognizant of your symptoms and delusional melodies

Confound you Love

Don’t come near me

I am smarter than to fall for your sonnets of ecstasy

Let me be,

Your words of harmony are masks of misery

Of tyranny, of hopeless strings bound to eternity

Don’t sulk at me,

My pride shall not soften to your sweet tone of concealed melancholy

Baby, Love, wipe your tears,

My door has already been locked against the deluge of your emotional calamities

I love you Love but your game is a losing one. So forgive me.

Here are some of my mad musings:

Who are you?
No, I’m not referring to the genetical make up that defines you or the roots of a land that intertwine you.

What am I?
Not interested in the skin that has caused divisions or religions claimed to create a clash of civilizations.

What constitutes us?
Spare me your name, his ancestral claim, our history, their ethnicity and the cultural diversity, which may shackle or bless our global communities.

Set me free
From these physical boundaries
These intangible weights
Encumbering human societies

Stop the spinning…………….

Can I, for a moment, invert my eyes inwards to behold the magnificence of the human soul? Can I retrace my steps to that place before my face was engraved in the depths of my mother’s womb? Before my name graced protected pages and life wrapped me in its cocoon?

Could I have been veiled by the drapes of heaven, sunbathing in honeyed lagoons? Or serenading palm trees, sheathed with golden lanterns, to a Ramadan moon?

I wonder…………..

I was in my pure form; a spirit, unblemished; before flesh and sin were born; before selfishness gave way to Satan to adorn my veins and steal my virgin core; before war kissed my cheek and laid me on poverty’s shore;
And he chose to bring me down – claylike- for a purpose and said he was closer than our naval cord.

I am a piece of the earth and a piece of him.
Adam and Eve birthed me, mortal genes formed me
BUT a part of Almighty has been imparted in me.
My soul is my immortal bridge to where I once lived in eternal bliss.
I can’t wait for my carnal dress to shrivel and liberate my true, real self.

Note to mankind:

Rejoice, the divine is in each one of us. Shed your complexions, possessions, nations…look inside then look at each other…we are all the same, only drawn, colored and named differently to be differentiated-to give substance and uniqueness to our identical souls.

A little prayer

Allahuma, I thank you for ‘life’ and for allowing me to feel/see the treasure that you are. However, I am filthy; shoulders burdened with the transgressions of my past and days to come.
At the time of farewell, I beg you to send Angel Izrael (AS) in his best-dressed clothes, with a wide smile, delighted to see me.
I beg you to allow Angel Gibreel (AS) to tightly embrace me with his wings before the Angels of the grave visit me.
I beg you to allow the Angels of Mercy to shelter me from the Angels of Torture, bathe me in musk and dress me in silky attire.
I beg you to alleviate Munkar and Nukair’s wrath and endow me with the confidence to answer the questions that I have memorized by heart.
I beg you to allow me to feast my eyes on you; hug, kiss and bow to you.
Ameen

At the orphanage’s door, next to my friend’s house is where I first set eyes upon him. Hmm, yes, it was the playful expression dancing on his face, his piercing gaze and the twinkle gleaming therein, that had stopped me in my tracks.
“What’s your name,” I ventured. “Basil meaning brave, what’s yours?” he asked. “Hiba meaning gift,” I teased. “If you’re a gift, why do you look sad & tired? Gifts are supposed to be happy to make those who receive them happy.

Caught off guard and impressed by his keen insight, I pressed on: “So, what do you know about sad & tired grown-ups?” I know that they have forgotten how to smile and play. They see the night and forget there is day, he replied. “Don’t you think the sun is too hot during the day for anyone to smile or play?” I laughed. “You let the sun burn you like you let the night scare you.” Dumbfounded to come up with something witty, I mouthed a “you’re truly brave, Basil. Allah yihfazak*,” and hurried off to my friend’s house.

Father shot in the south
Malnourished mother died giving birth
At the age of 5, his uncle gave him up
Hollow-eyed, devoid of remorse

The orphanage was in a pitiful state and the orphans lived in shabby conditions. The caretakers had to make do with the scraps and donations they were given since their relentless efforts to persuade the government to increase their financing met with no fruition. Anyway, everyone noticed that Basil was special & different. He spent most of his time reading stories, sitting dazedly in Alhosh* or accosting & conversing with adult strangers who passed by the orphanage every now & then.

White is for soul
Green is for mind
Red is for heart
These are the parts that make up Basil’s toy

“What is that thing in your hand that has the colors of our flag?” I asked one day with mock-innocence and failing miserably to suppress a chuckle. By now, Basil had gotten used to my inane sense of humor. How ironic that our roles were reversed!! The doll look-alike was actually broken twigs glued, somehow, together. He used chalks to color his disfigured version of a human toy.
“Ya Hadiya* (this is what he liked to call me). This is my best friend. White is clean like Baba Ahmed’s Jalabiya* when he is praying. Green is the grass in our hosh. Red is the roses I saw in the park that Mama Safiya took us to.

7 days later, his stomach began to ache
Doctor diagnosed it as an infection
Medication was taken yet nothing stopped the pain
Until his appendix burst open

What can I possibly write after this! Yes, Basil passed away as a result of a misdiagnosis; another beautiful young soul, who could have done so much for this world, lost as a consequence of negligence and error!!! How can I describe the brutality, agony, horror & unfairness of it all? I stand speechless!
After his burial, which was attended by masses of people, old and young, whose lives he must have touched in one way or the other, I asked Mama Safiya for his precious toy. Back then, when he had expounded on the colors, I hadn’t thought much about it. However, now, I have come to fathom their deep meanings:

White (Soul): Keeping the soul clean & pure; being good; having faith & hope.
Green (Mind): The mind is fertile. It is our duty to nurture & cultivate it. We choose to allow the weeds to grow in it or not. We develop it.
Red (Heart): He likened it to a rose. A rose is exquisite yet fragile and so is the heart. Cherish & protect it for it can be easily broken.

A 10 year old taught me so much about life, humans and purity. His toy stands as a symbol of what we should be. Life is, indeed, temperamental, rocking us back and forth with its unpredictable mood swings. To cope with it, one must always search for goodness and strength within and to seek that inner power which, to me, is Allah. No matter how circumstances pull you down, try not to bow to it.

This piece is dedicated to those children in Sudan who are wise beyond their age due to what they have/had experienced & who are striving to uphold their values in the face of misery and tribulations

3arragi: A type of Sudanese traditional knee-length white robe, which is usually worn with a sirwal(loose slacks).It is for men.
Allah yihfazak: May Allah protect you.
Alhosh: The court yard/yard surrounding the house.
Hadiya: Gift in Arabic.
Jalabiya: White loose flowing robe worn by men.

An entirety spent protected….each day created to the best never realizing that there lies a world full of strained faces,aching emotions and dreams that are never ever secured.

A sea of people with lives so close to reality lies beyond the grilled concrete wall….separating the protected me from the exposed to the core commonalty.

Ever wondered what life is like for the dry-eyed and blanked-faced child that flocks around our pompous four wheelers trying in vain to gain our attention for just a moment…..to quench his burning thirst.

Ever tried looking into those somber eyes that demand nothing more than just a smile…..a hand that can help breath and view the life that prevails above the thick smoke and insect infested air.

Ever touched those cracked and soiled palms…those palms that have never touched a plush toy or leafed through a storybook….never touched clean.

Who cares what lies beyond the grilled concrete wall….let those innocent young girls scream….let those old haggard murmur on and on until their throats bleed.

Who cares let this vicious cycle grow….until one day it shall reach the concrete wall and i would have to succumb to its wrath…its screams piercing my ears,its eyes looking at me,through me….deep into me,its hands around my throat and its voice so very sinister so very sharp with pain,agony torment,distress…..

Crying out to me…salvage me,cure me,befriend me…ever wondered when it all shall stop….how it all shall stop…will it ever stop….could you and i help put an end to the never ending….

This piece is not intended to offend anyone. I am merely shedding light on a grave situation rampant in our country.

NB: The names have been changed to protect the identities of the characters.

A party.
Eyes locked.
Link forged.
Fatima felt her heart skip a beat;
Matthew was startled by the sudden rush of heat.

“She is a Muslim with a veil on her head!!!!”
“Oh God!! He has a Cross in the chain around his neck!!”
“But she is different. I don’t know how but she stands out.”
“Wow!!! Distinctive style; you rarely find such a guy around!!!”
That night, they chatted endlessly and were smitten by each other.
She admired his vivacity and he loved her openness.
Digits exchanged.
Minds preoccupied.
An inexplicable attraction
Unexpectedly materialized.

Incessant calls.
Mutual visitations.
Beautiful friendship.
Intellectual discussions and religious debates.
Written thoughts and reading books is how they would relate.
She saw wisdom and reason through his eyes.
He touched kindness when he was by her side.

Bond strengthened.
Love blossomed.
They both knew they were on dangerous territory.
But Matthew understood and converted to her religion.
Went to her parents and declared his blissful decision.

“Fatima, are you insane? Do you want to tarnish our lineage?”
“Child, he is from Southern Sudan!!! What does he know about our heritage?”
“He is a slave; Southerners are way below our level.”
“We accepted him as your friend but marriage is unthinkable.”

Torn souls.
Cursed lives.
A brutal ending.
Rejection of a Muslim Sudanese due to the wrong ancestry.
Eventually, they both had to go their separate ways.

“A society enslaved by partial conceptions
Superficial perceptions generate mental deception
The masses define it as pride but prejudice is the correct interpretation
Though we rep the same country, we suffer from tribal segregation
Racists of our own race, Cultural feuds with no base
We call ourselves one nation when internally we’re two-faced
Our worth n value “scaled” on a “location gauge”
Hallelujah, the elites celebrate if you are the right skin shade
So, tell me, when will our ethnic diversity be a blessing?
When will our society reform its morbid attitude towards our differences?
When will the majority learn to look at each other as Sudanese brothers and sisters not as Southerner, Northerner, Rubatabi or Akhdar (when used for ridicule or in a demeaning sense)?
How many more people have to suffer from society’s disapproval because of something not in their hands?”

To Matthew and Fatima, two remarkable persons,
Victims of a deeply-rooted poignant phenomenon

Why do people think twice before hiring me?
Why am I being gazed at pitifully?
Why the political drama in the French community?
Why the rejection, discrimination n mockery?

My crime: convicted of concealing my hair
A felony: refusing to expose, disclose & be bare
Labeled cloaked terrorists; Blacklisted fundamentalists
An impediment to society’s modern development

Rhetorically, the world speaks of democracy
In reality, extreme deception n hypocrisy
Why don’t u stay away; let us live; let us be?
We ain’t imposing; encroaching on your territory
We only striving; implementing the Lord’s decree
Trying to be the best Muslims we can possibly be

Why you denying us our God-given rights?
A safe place; free from prejudice and dislike
Why you blaming; judging us by what we wear?
They are only pieces of cloth; won’t bite; won’t flare

Why are we being persecuted, treated as inferiors?
Did you take the time to get to know our interior?
Ruminate; cogitate; let your logic dominate
We equal, historically, created by the same superior

Put yourselves in our shoes; let oppression be infused
I’m telling ya, you won’t survive; Islamic faith uncompromised
Stop tripping on what you don’t know; harassing innocent souls
It’s time you see past our veils; it’s time you let who we are prevail

She sashayes gracefully
with not a quiver in her delicate movement
Her visage emanating incontestable pride
Her heart-choking smile is not an illusion
Fusion of her four senses is her leverage
Her grasping hand of the incomprehensible
Sounds of her environment becoming
her daily addictive beverage………..

Indoctrinated by the thrill she feels
on the tips of her fingers
To her thristy mind,knowledge is her television
She takes her promenade everyday in the labyrinth
existing in her brain
persevering to explore its seductive multi-dimension

She is as sweet as the honey-syrup
oozing from the flower petals
A free-spirited virgin spewing sunshine wherever she goes
Her heart never beat to an evil or gruesome rhythm
Dancing to her own music
Spell-binding others with her magical flow

But I wonder: If she were blessed like the rest of us,
Would she be strong enough to defy the tides of inhumanity?
Would she be able to cope with the heavy weight of atrocities
committed in our world?
Would she still sing to her own tune and weave her own yarns?
Would she feel deceived?Would her utopia cease to exist?

I wonder………

This heavenly creature is cursed yet blessed
God has shielded her from the visions of the devil
But I know she will not rest
Until she has attained the highest level……..
Why?
Because she desires colors
Because she desires faces
Because she desires shapes
Because she desires to see herself
instead of darkness everywhere

Dedicated to all those who have not been blessed by the sense of sight.May Allah be their eyes and may he guide them all to the right path.

I truly & genuinely enjoyed reading their comments & personal stories.I’m astounded by how blinding my misconceptions were & feel ashamed at the unnecessary hate I harboured for all of them.

Some of the IDF’s actions make it no less of a criminal than that of the NCP & whoever murders, be it a Muslim, Afghani, Israeli, Chinese, Christian, is immoral.From now on, I won’t blame one party & ignore the other.My anger shall be distributed equally:)

Update: You know what the best part is: Something my 15 year old sis said to me.Mind you, she is the queen of our family * mashallah* but being a teen, her priorities revolve around malls & cute guys,lool.Anyway, when I told her about this post, I was surprised at her reaction.She asked me to print it out because she wants to know more about the Jews & feels really bad when she hears prayers targeted against them.I was ecstatic since my sis rarely showed an explicit interest in such issues & given how our schools & the media distort news,I’d happily say that this is one step forward:)

Posted by hipster at 11:16

Peaceful memories; pieces of integrated families.
A life defined by love through eyes of children in safe-like sanctuaries;
Echoes of sweet laughter; symbolic of symphonic melodies;
Kids’ demonic enemies are the witches in animated comedies.
Attending schools, bending rules;
Innocuous mischief of innocent souls;
Carefree hearts, utopian parts that make our lives undividedly whole.
Then the script is flipped; fractured, twisted n ripped;
Ugliness growing each minute like Dorian Gray’s pic.

It’s the stench of blood; incineration of flesh;
Extermination of humans cuz war is the Angel of Death;
Hannibal on the loose cuz carnage is a cannibal’s quest;
Screams of pain are joyful songs of glory n success.

Enter the twilit (not twilight) zone; zoom into “twice-laid” lives;
Feel broken cries, demise of tender dreams of diluted minds;
Fertile psyche of minors defiled with war-born parasites.
Dementia arises as parental ashes internalize.
Destruction of purity, infliction of fear and insecurity;
Distorted ideologies of 10 year olds with suicidal tendencies.
Sentenced casualties cause unsafe n harmful reality,
Young generations mutate to master the war mentality.

Little girls get raped and little boys are enslaved;
Tanks and bombs become their constant play-mates.
Cemeteries are homes, loved ones are in graves.
Beauty is in death cuz wars scar and mutilate.

“The lives of the children who survive will never be the same again.”

He was sitting 3 seats behind me on the bus. A Southern Sudanese gentleman who caught my attention at the station partly because Southern Sudanese people are rare in this part of the world, and partly because seeing a piece of my home chased away the loneliness I felt amidst the different nationalities that frequented the bus-stop.

“If you’re white, everything is all right.” That line again! It’s incessant repetition and the dark sarcasm it was imbued with aroused my curiosity that I couldn’t help but wonder what tragedy had befallen this man & instigated him to reach such a conclusion. I wasn’t seeking an answer and in fact, I didn’t need one because I think, deep down, I was perfectly able to understand his concealed pain. Racism has always been my childhood companion. “My monster in the closet” save that it was real and tended to pop its hideous head anytime during the day. I can still vividly recall the taunting faces, jeering comments, and disgusted facial expressions of the Arab kids at school. “Black,” “Sudaniya,” “Why does your hair look like that?”, “Why do you have this dark skin color?” “Thank God that he has painted me white” & so on & so forth. Palestinians, Iraqis, Lebanese & Emiratis; all who thought that they were superior to me due to their white complexions.

It was a devastating experience. Those ignorant children/youth had no idea how excruciating and mortifying their mockery was, and the hampering impact it had on my self-esteem and confidence. They drove me to hate myself and wish to be like them. They pushed me to the edge of inferiority and drilled in me the pseudo-fact that I’m worthless because I’m black. It was only recently that my skepticism towards dealing with my fellow Arab nationals has abated. Thanks to hip-hop in the 90′s & the likes of 2pac(back then), G-Unit & Beyounce (now) that the Arabic world began to see us in a different light especially those of us who live up to these Black American icons.

One memorable incident was when I was about 6 years old. I was playing with my neighbors when they suddenly began a parade of derogatory remarks. I was sad. I went back home & told my father (RIP). He was enraged, went downstairs, assembled the children and gave them a tear-jerking lecture about discrimination. From that lecture, what stands in my mind till this day is my father’s “Whiteness is not that which defines your skin but what is in your hearts.”

The voices in the bus jarred me back to reality. The guy was still talking on the cell phone & mouthing those words. The fact that he was a Southerner amplified my sympathies simply because he must have endured the same kind of abuse in our homeland too. How ironical. Truly, shamefully, and revoltingly ironic!! Imagine my shock when I went to Sudan for my university studies in 1998, having escaped the clutches of racism in the UAE, only to come face-to-face with it one more time in my country! Maybe not strongly inclined towards me but, nevertheless, staggering and humiliating; an epidemic disease rotting in our culture.

Why do we, whether the Arabs or Sudanese, trample on each other by virtue of a mere skin shade, which is a gift from the heavens? Has anyone ever envisaged how dull, ugly and colorless this world would have been if everything including humans looked like each other and had the same color? Why does beauty have a specific criterion when God has intentionally diversified and created beauty in all shapes & sizes? Why does COLOR matter so much? Why have millions been harassed and victimized for something they had no hand in? Why can’t we invest our precious time in building our societies and spawning love and collaboration between each other? Why?

I suppressed the urge to turn around and hold his hand. I wanted to look him into the eye and tell him that he should love himself and should never think less of himself whatsoever. I wanted to tell him to hold his head up high; to be proud of who he is and of his beautiful ebony skin tone. I wanted to tell him to never permit anyone to insult him because he has as much right as they have to a better, peaceful and prejudice-free life. We have all been created by the same hand & have been moulded from the same clay.

On Judgment Day, God is not going to make his judgment based on your complexion, race or beauty but on what good you have sowed & what values you have been able to maintain.

NB: For fairness’s sake, racism in the UAE has dwindled vis-a-vis my childhood days.My siblings, who study in the same school I studied in, thankfully, are not going through the same ordeal that I have gone through.