ALHAMDULILAH FOR ISLAM #WEEK 3 CHALLENGE

Alhamdulilah third week is already over and Ramadhan is quickly winding up. For the past week the challenge was making up a list for the things we are grateful for in Islam.

DAY 15: When you see people like Trump you really gotta thank God for Islam. There is so much fasad in the current world, so many people fighting against Islam and doing kufr. Isn't it such a blessing that in this century to be a Muslim? Alhamdulilah ala ne3matil Islam. Alhamdulilah for being born in Islam and for growing up within a Muslim family. May Allah make us die in Islam too ya Rab.

DAY 16: I read the qur'an and I feel amazed. Subhanallah there is so much scientific knowledge, miracles and predictions that took years before modern world scientists identified. For example the formation of a baby, how each human being has their own fingerprints, the barrier between salty water and fresh water oceans they meet but never mix, the benefits we can get from cattle and many others. But one amazing miracle of the qur'an that I just learnt lately is from surat Iqra, ayah 15-16 "Nay! If he (abu Jahl) ceases not, we will catch him by the forelock. A lying, sinful forelock." The area of the front cerebrum in the brain (forelock) is responsible for planning, motivating and initiating good and sinful behaviour and is responsible for the telling of lies and speaking of truth. Thus it is proper to describe the front of the head as lying and sinful when someone commits a sin. Scientists have only discovered these functions of the prefrontal area in the last sixty years yet the qur'an mentions this more than 1400 years ago. Alhamdulilah for this great knowledge. Let's read the qur'an and understand it. There is just so much for us to learn.

DAY 17: We had a prophet true in his nature, kind in his dealings. His character was the qur'an and became a role model to us. He taught us to be kind to the poor, to cherish our wives, to grow in unity, to fight for Allah, to be humble to our parents. When we check the hadiths of the prophet and the history, there is nothing left un-turned. The prophet taught us even the smallest of details of life; how to behave in the washroom, how to eat, how to drink, how to live with our spouses, how to treat animals and our neighbours, how to behave in all situations subhanallah. Alhamdulilah for such a role model. Alhamdulilah for all that he taught us that shaped our behaviour and character.

DAY 18: There are so many Muslim scholars who discovered and made great inventions that are used to date. Philosophers like Abu Nasr Al-Farabi who wrote one hundred books whose topics ranged from ethics, politics, Music, sociology, metaphysics and natural science. His ideas influenced several other known Muslim thinkers like Ibn Sina (Avicenna), Al-Razi (Rhazes), Ibn Rushd (Averroes) and Ibn Khaldun. They were geniuses great scholars that explored different subjects just like Al-Farabi. They made a remarkable history in Mathematics, medicine, physics, philosophy and many other fields. These philosophers transmitted the scientific and philosophical wealth of ancient Greece and made substantial improvements and additions to this knowledge by their own independent work. Alhamdulilah for such amazing personalities in Islam. Alhamdulilah for the Muslim geniuses that made and are still leaving a mark in the current world.

DAY 19: Islam has come with so many stories of past prophets, the pious people, the oppressive kings, the sinful societies. It has come with so many life lessons for us such that we can learn from them. But most of all, we learn from how our prophets struggled and how they were tested; prophet Ayub's long ailment, prophet Nuh's son drowning right in front of him, prophet Lut's wife turning into a rock, prophet Muhammad and his sahaba's tough journey in spreading Islam etc...we learn to be patient. We learn to accept Allah's destiny and have faith in Him always. These stories are brought down such that our hearts can be at ease and at peace for what He has tested us with. There are so many moral lessons to learn from these stories. Alhamdulilah for the hope Allah keeps giving us from them.

DAY 20: Being a woman I am grateful to be a Muslim. I am thankful at how Islam has elevated the status of women, at how we are the queens, the daughters and the wives. At how the jannah lies under our feet when we become mothers and how we can be the reason our fathers go to jannah and our husbands too. I am thankful that Islam eliminated the jahiliyyah traditions of undermining the women and burying of girl babies. Islam has made it possible for women to inherit and to own their own wealth and to be the greatest teachers, role models and influencers of all time. Alhamdulilah for being a Muslim woman.

DAY 21: Alhamdulilah for a Merciful God for granting us such a month like this of Ramadhan. Alhamdulilah for all the chances that He gives us so that we can correct ourselves, repent with no limits, spread humanity and love each other honestly. Subhanallah. I mean, how Merciful is our Lord to give us such a flawless month where satan is locked away and gives you all the energy so that you can talk to Him and He, listens to you always? Alhamdulilah for Ramadhan. It is indeed one of the great blessings of Islam.

As we go into the final week of Ramadhan I would like to kindly ask you to remember me in your duas, I will forever be grateful for that. May Allah accept our duas, grant us guidance and the love of Islam. May He grant us the peace of the heart and love of akhirah. 

Next week in shaa Allah the topic is Alhamdulilah for everything. Till next week, stay safe, keep thanking Allah and may Allah bless you. Ameen 😊

ZAKAT AND SADAQA IN QUEUES?

Photo Courtesy: http://productivemuslim.com

It is these times that Muslims are giving in charity abundantly,humanity levels are at the peak. Kindness is probably an understatement and you could be awed at how everyone is going an extra mile to help those in need. This is one of my favourite times. It is indeed the last ten days of Ramadhan.

People differ in how they offer the sadaqa and zakat but of late, some Muslims have made it a trend to make a call-out that they will be giving zakat/sadaqa on a certain day. On these days, you would see women huddled with their children and men, old and young standing outside the premises awaiting the 'promised package'. They would wait as long as it takes, so long as they get the flour,oil, sugar and other necessities. People are hungry, they would do anything to get that package. People are jobless, they would do anything to get something to feed their families. You see the queues of people waiting and you know how much people are desperately in need. Some would say, Kenyans just like whatever is free whatever it may cost them. Quite true but nonetheless we can never totally disagree that majority are genuinely poor. It is quite a heart breaking sight when you see them standing, seated, squatting under the scorching sun, some with crying babies and tired children waiting for the 500, 1000 shillings or the package. But have we ever kept ourselves in their shoes?

I have never really known whether what is being given is sadaqa or zakat. Whether it is announced that people should come or leakage of information that leads those crowds of people to the premises. Whatever the case, the method used in sharing this zakat or even if it is sadaqa is quite depressing. If the people responsible in giving the sadaqa/zakat are not the ones who called out for people to come over then there must be leakage of information on their plans and thus the queues of people. Because people just can't walk miles and miles in crowds or queues if they didn't hear the grapevine and the rumours that this person at this place will be giving out this and that. Or perhaps it is just a bad trend amongst the people to crowd themselves up? Allahu a3lam. 

I'm just assuming the rich are the ones who give information on such plans or they have made the poor get accustomed to such sadaqa traditions over the years and thus the automated numbers of people appearing at the same place year in year out. If it is indeed so, then a lot has to be considered.

This woman with her child or this old man is probably coming from South Coast or Kilifi or even farther areas like Changamwe. Most probably he/she came by foot because they are not about to waste money for fare. We all know how our heat is here in Mombasa. And even if it is any other place, the distances these people walk is not a joke honestly. They come and find the 'earlier birds' have already arrived. It's a huge crowd already. He thought he was early but in this case, it is first come first serve. Survival is for the fittest. He might spend the entire day roaming around the place waiting for the package. This man might have wasted a whole day of work where he would have probably earned 1500 shillings while you give them only 1000. Even if he was going to get the EXACT amount or even more from you, he wouldn't be humiliated in such a way. 

Many people take these things really for granted but please think about it. When you call out to people that you will be giving out sadaqa and people; very poor people desperately come to your place, not knowing the exact time or anything. They 'just heard' you will be giving out something, and 'something' is such a great deal for them. Have you really thought about the struggle they go through to get to your place? Waiting for hours? With all this heat and tired children on their backs?

You know, we keep saying we want jannah. We want to be in the same jannah like Umar ibn Khattab and Hamza and Fatima Azahra and Aisha Radhiya Llahu 3anhum. We want to be in the same heaven with the prophet and with people who were killed for Islam, with people who sacrificed their entire wealth Fi sabiliLlah. With people who used to take sadaqa to the doorsteps of the poor. With people who fought with the prophet peace be upon him. How by God? How do we expect to be in the same jannah with them while we humiliate people? When we make people make queues to get what is their haq from you? Even if not intentionally, aren't you supposed to do unto others what you would prefer for yourself? How do we even dream of being in the same jannah with the sahabas and prophets??!

Let us not try to justify ourselves. If we can afford to give zakah to a random number every year then we can very well afford to actually go to South Coast, work along with the local imams in giving out to those who are really needy and just lazy beggars. And even if one is sick or unable to get there himself then he can probably afford to hire reliable people to do it on his behalf.

We keep forgetting that every single step we take towards these poor people the more the rewards for us. It is not a must that you feed 1000 people for you to feel satisfied with your sadaqa or zakat. You can as well do big projects for ten people such that they don't have to come to you again the next year. If we REALLY want jannah then we must go out of our comfort zone. We must work hard and feel the pain of people. What we give in queues does not mean is any less valuable. No that's not what I am saying. It does not mean that I am not aware of the bad begging habits in our Coast and Kenya in general. It does not mean I am underestimating anyone's approach of giving sadaqa and zakat. God knows I am not being judgemental here and may He forgive me if i'm making wrong assumptions..all I meant to say is; please when giving out what you have remember that these people are human beings like you. Don't just take their desperation to your advantage and let them struggle to get what you had in store for them. Put yourself in their shoes. Do unto them what you would have wanted if you were in their place. Not meaning to step on anyone's toes; Allahu a3laam.

FATE (part 1)

Photo Courtesy: Salem_Beliegraphy

Rashid sat by the window as his fellow passengers continued boarding the bus. It was already getting dark and his mind was far off. The smile on his face was clear even with the dimness of the lights at the crowded bus stage. He was finally heading to fulfill his dream and it was only his introverted nature that made him to not scream out of excitement. A young boy of about twelve was roaming around the bus restlessly, his lips looked so dry and his kinky hair seemed to have not touched water in ages. He finally found his way to Rashid's window and very sadly, he extended his hand. Rashid looked at the hand for a while; debating with himself. His mother had always discouraged him to give beggars money. ' They are just manipulative conmen' she would say. If someone heard her rather dis likable comments about the beggars, you would think she is just an arrogant lady with wealth and thus doesn't know what struggle is. Totally opposite to that, Rashid's mother had raised him singlehandedly. She worked tirelessly to ensure Rashid had a comfortable life but to this stage where Rashid was now going to university, it sounded like a miracle. She would always tell him how ugly it is for a human being to beg while they have limbs to use and a brain that is functional. It all made sense to him but even as he looked at that small hand still stretched out to him, his heart gave him a pinch.
"Shikamoo...chakula...chakula" The small untidy boy repeated the statement thrice; staring directly at Rashid.
'I'll just do it for today, he thought...it's my best day anyway' He searched in his pockets and gave him his last coins. His smile had now broadened. He felt accomplished; satisfied. He had restored humanity. 

The boy was now smiling too as he moved away from the bus towards the one at the back. Rashid went back to his day dreaming as his face beamed happiness. There were just a few more passengers remaining to board before the bus would leave to Nairobi. This seemed like an unrealistic dream. Once he arrives at Nairobi, he was going to get a plane to UK for a scholarship program. 'UK? Unbelievable!!' he remarked to himself. Just a few days before he had given up that he will ever get to university and here he was...'It is cause of mummy's prayers, i'm sure'. He smiled once again and he seemed so confident that nothing; absolutely NOTHING would spoil his night.

Suddenly there was chaos from the bus behind them and some men were cursing in Kiswahili. Everyone in the bus was now peeping from their windows as a crowd formed. "Mtoto mkorofi!" someone shouted as several other people asked, "what is going on?"
Rashid stuck his head out, peeping over people's heads. A man came out from the crowd and Rashid quickly asked, "Kuna nini?"
"Some young boy here stole a passengers wallet after he refused to help him and insulted him on his bad behaviour of begging," he answered in kiswahili.
"Did you see the boy who stole? How does he look like?" Rashid quickly asked.
"He was a begger; a bit short. Looked really untidy," he said with disgust.
Rashid immediately knew that it was the same boy who had come to him. He bit his lower lip hardly as he felt a cocktail of emotions. First it was rage; 'perhaps what mummy said was right. They are just thieves and conmen at the end of the day.' Then came the pity and guilt; 'perhaps if I gave him enough money to eat he wouldn't have stolen.'


Another yell interrupted him. It seemed like he was the one who had just been robbed off his wallet.
"Sasa mimi nitasafiri vipi?!" Rashid clicked. Whom is he asking that? But in Mombasa you never miss the sympathizers. A few people came in and handed him some money to take him through his journey. 'Ironic right? He was no any much different from the beggar boy now. They both needed help and both of them had gotten money from other people. They were now equals. He definitely has no right to talk about the beggar boy anymore. Perhaps if he had helped him, all this wouldn't have happened.' Rashid snapped loudly. The old man seated next to him looked at him strangely, maybe wondering what this young man could be so angry about.

His phone was beeping in his pocket. He took it and glanced at the name on the screen 'mama'...
'She must be calling to ask whether I already left.'
"Yes mama?"
"Have you left already?"
"Not yet...but about to."
"You have to come back."
"What do you mean?" Rashid sat upright.
"You have to come back immediately. Your father needs you...he is on his dying bed."
"Father...which father?!" His tone rose.
"Your father... I lied to you. He is not dead."
"Mama...what do you mean?!"
"Just come back home son. Right away."
The phone went off. His hands were shaking now. He waited for a moment on his seat; as if comprehending the whole conversation. He took out his passport and the ticket and stared at them for a while. His dream had just been shattered. By whom? By a father he had never met. He ran his fingers through the ticket once again and cursed in a whisper. The old man turned to look at him once again, only this time it was a glare. Rashid ignored him, pulled out his bag and alighted from the bus.


He walked slowly and his shoulders weighed down. All he could see now were the blurred lights of the streets. The more he walked. the more his steps became more of a stagger. He met a few more beggars seated by the road with empty plastic containers. He opened his bag and pulled out the appetizing dinner that his mother had made him for the journey. When she first gave them to him, he was too delighted. There were several samosas, kebabs and 'mkate wa sinia'. She had packed so many of them with the claim 'you will stay for so long without tasting these special delicacies by your mum so make sure to eat them all'. But now it didn't matter anymore; he was going back home and will get to eat them forever. He approached the old ladies seated by the roadside with their children and gave them the lunch box. They were now all crowding towards him and for a moment, Rashid thought they would get into a fight out of excitement for the food. This time he did not feel accomplished or even satisfied. It felt no different than throwing away the food in the dustbin...


Right ahead of him was their home. His cheeks still round in a frown, he stared at their house like it was the first time he was seeing it. Time had witnessed a lot of struggle in that house. Time was the only living proof of the mud house that was about to fall down at it's own weight. The house was nearly swept off by rain more than once. And while everyone stayed safe in their homes from the floods, he and his mum were not saved from it. They would sit by their tiny table and float like in a boat; busy fetching the mad water from the floor and pouring it of the house. Only God knows how they survived. Only God knows how they lived through hunger and poverty for days. Rashid sighed and moved towards the open door.

Upon entering the house, he saw a few familiar faces seated next to the bed. It was a bit crowded and could barely see the faces clearly. Their living room was also their bedroom and everything they ever had. Every night he would spread some two to three cotton blankets on the floor to avoid the hard touch of the stony floor. His mother would sleep on the bed; the only bed. His eyes narrowed as he recognized his two paternal aunts and three uncles. He hadn't seen them since he was very young. It was almost that same time when his father disappeared and his mum had told him then that his father had gone to heaven.

"What is happening?" Rashid broke the silence. He dropped his bag and took the small diminishing candle that was lit near the door. He moved closer to the bed and raised it high to see the face of a very frail, old man lying on his mother's bed.

"I asked what is happening. Who is this?" The silence was loud. "And where is my mother?"
"My son..." the old man started.
"Rashid!" His mother made a quick entrance into the room. She was carrying some herbs which she dropped on the table before pulling Rashid outside the house.
"Rashid..my dear son...I will explain everything. Please don't be angry. Just listen to what he has to say."
"Why now? Just when I was about to kick off my studies. When else will I get such an opportunity?!" He said slowly yet in a firm voice.
"And when else will you get a chance to meet your father? Your dying father? He just has a few days left. Please come in..." she pulled him back inside before he could say one more word.

At the bedside, Rashid sat next to his father. They were on the same bed yet so distant. Everyone else had gone out, leaving them alone. The candle lit in a feeble way as their shadows displayed on the old curtains. The old man stretched his hand and placed it slowly on Rashid's hand. Rashid pulled back his hand without a word but the old man was not about to give up. He held his hand again; firmly this time. As firm as his weak shaky hands would allow him.
"My son..."he started.
"Don't start it now. Stop 'sonning' me. I am only listening to you because mum asked me to."
"I...you have every right to be angry at me. I have been a bad father. And a bad husband too...but life teaches us the greatest lessons..."he stopped to cough. It was a painful cough. More of a groan.
"When I married your mother, she was that kind of woman who sacrificed her entire world to create our own small world of me, you and her. But I betrayed her. I was still young and started getting rich. Money deceived me. I remarried and left your mother. But I was still so young my son. I was very young to know that money has it's end too... My second wife empowered me to continue building my empire. I forgot all the sacrifices your mother made to get me there. It is only after I was filthy rich when my second wife did the same thing I did to your mother. She left me. But she didn't just leave me; she left me penniless. She made me richer than ever so that she can have the entire kingdom to herself afterwards..." he breathed loudly and Rashid could almost feel how slow his heartbeat was.

He paused a bit to catch his breath.
"And where were you all this time after she left you? Didn't you regret? Why didn't you come back to us?" Rashid said in a bitter tone.
"Kwa uso gani?...how could I come back to your mother after all that I had done? After hurting her so badly?...how could I face you after you already knew I was dead?...I was poor once again and nothing to offer to you two."
"You are still poor. Why did you come back now? Today precisely?! Just when I was leaving to UK?! Do you know what it meant to me? That scholarship?!" He snapped.
"Please forgive me my son. I came back so that I can see you, see how you've grown and...apologize to both you and your mum. I have countable days remaining..."

ALHAMDULILAH FOR TIES THAT BIND #WEEK 2 CHALLENGE

Illustrations by: www.ayeina.com

What are we without the ties that we have? What is to become of us without the people in our lives?

Week 2 challenge was to thank Allah for the ties that we have in our lives.

DAY 8: My mother is a super woman. It doesn't matter i you believe it or not, but she is the most admirable being I ever saw, met or even heard of. She is my mother. And what more reason do I need to love her? Alhamdulilah for a creative mother; an intelligent mother, a wonderful, caring, most loving woman in the world. Her sacrifices for me and her family is beyond. Alhamdulilah for a mother that truly deserves the title of a mother.

DAY 9: Alhamdulilah for a father who loves his children sincerely. For a dad who teaches his children matters of deen. For a father who leads his children in prayer. For a father who has shown the best example by being attached to the book of Allah. Alhamdulilah for such a great great blessing. Alhamdulilah for my hero.

DAY 10: Alhamdulilah for my whole family. For having a family. Alhamdulilah for my siblings that I live with. For my sisters and brothers. For the cute children. For my cousins. For my aunties and uncles. For my dearest nephew.  Alhamdulilah for siblings who are more knowledgeble. Those who teach me something new everyday. Alhamdulilah for siblings that I would never wish for others. Alhamdulilah for a large family. For the wonderful loving bond between us.
Alhamdulilah because I very well know that there are so many people out there who are homeless and without their families. It is a blessing.

DAY 11: Alhamdulilah for my other siblings and their families in Yemen. Alhamdulilah that despite the war Allah has enabled us to keep communication.  Alhamdulilah that He has protected them for us. Alhamdulilah that despite not meeting in almost 20 years; despite the gap of time and distance, we still have hope to have our family re-united once again in shaa Allah.

DAY 12: Alhamdulilah for strangers who value me. Those who regard me as their mentor. Strangers who keep binding our ties. Strangers who keep reading my humble work and supporting me always. Strangers who keep believing in me more than I ever did. Alhamdulilah for such lovely people in my life.

DAY 13: ALhamdulilah for my small circle of lifetime friends. For friends who are sisters too. Alhamdulilah for friends who remind me of Allah. For friends who are always by my side through thick and thin. For friends who correct me when I go wrong. Who are honest with me. Who are loyal to me. Friends who support me and give me a shoulder when I need one. Those who give me a helping hand whenever. Friends who love me for the sake of Allah. Alhamdulilah for real friends.

DAY 14: They say everyone comes into your life for a reason. I look at my best friend and I just know she is God-sent. Alhamdulilah for her existance in my life. Alhamdulilah for a friend truer than the truth itself. Alhamdulilah for a very patient, very understanding, very honest, very supportive best friend. She is the best gift of my life after my family and I don't know how I would survive in such a cold world without her shoulder and helping hand always. And all this is because Allah blessed me with her. So yes, alhamdulilah thumma alhamdulilah for my best friend.


My family, my friends are my world and I would be empty without them. So alhamdulilahi kathira for them. Alhamdulilah for ties that bind. May Allah protect them for me, guide them and grant them happiness in this world and the next. Ameen, ameen thumma ameen.

So what ties were you grateful for this week? I hope you had something to thank Allah for because even in the worst of situations there is still something to be grateful for. 

Next week in shaa Allah the topic is: Alhamdulilah for Islam. Keep thanking Allah. Till next week in shaa Allah, stay safe and saum maqbul :)

HOW FULL IS YOUR PLATE?

First step: Download the above photo.

Second step: Zoom the photo as much as you can.

Third step: Look at it keenly.

Do you see what I see? This is real. This is our real world.

You know what they usually say? You don't miss the water until the well runs dry. You can never fathom hunger if you don't know what it means to stay for two/three consecutive days without a drop of water or a piece of bread. You can never know what it feels like to have your stomach pinching you tightly like it's about to excrete all your intestines. You can never really understand the value of the food on your plate until the day you probably get lost in a desert and all your water and food runs out.

A few days ago someone was telling me about a child in Samburu who was starving to the extent that his heartbeat rate was so low, people thought he is already dead. Can you imagine how many days this child could have stayed hungry? We fast for 12 hours and the speed at which we want to gulp everything down when we break the fast is supersonic. We want everything our hands can get to. We eat until we can barely breath anymore. Imagine this kind of 'mini-hunger' that we experience then triple that; that is what they go through DAILY. And mind you, it could be four/five, infinite times more. 

Right now Israel has cut-off the water supply for the Palestinians in West Bank. This is not the first time, not the second and definitely not the last. So many in this same world that we live in stay for days without tasting even the tasteless, dirty, muddy water. Nothing in liquid form. They walk for very long distances in search of water and food. All they see is the mirage. The illusion of water. They think of water. They dream of water. Think of them, the Syrians, the Yemenis, Indians, our own Kenyans. All these countries either in war or in poverty. This is what they go through every single day.

If you are thinking that I am trying to make you guilty then you are on the right track. I am a victim of my own guilt. When your mother tells you just jokingly that there is no food today you will quickly question, "what do you mean there is no food?!" You will be miserable the entire day and probably the next too. "How dare they not cook food?!" You will whine. You will cry. You will not talk to anyone. Then what do you do when you have the food??

See how we go to eat in hotels and restaurants, touch food here and there then leave two potatoes, some soup and the juice only half empty. We pretend to be the elite class. We don't want to be considered 'greedy' by clearing the whole plate so we leave bits of food here and there. I mean, who wants to be seen as 'hungry?' All we want to do is touch the expensive food, leave the plate almost as it first came, pay the bill with a tip because that is what the elite do or 'should' do. We have bars of chocolates melting in the fridge for days, half drank juices and lots of junk that ends up in the pit. We complain when a certain food is cooked repeatedly and without shame we say, "tushachoka na hiki chakula" <em>we are tired of this same food always...

We cook in extravagance and are quick to throw the food away the next day because 'we don't eat left overs'. My friend; if you knew what those left overs mean to starved people you would never leave even a single bit of anything that tastes or even smells like food. Let alone left overs, the rotten food that you wouldn't give your cat is like wealth to them. When you see how happy they become when they receive food from those who remember them you'd think they just won a lottery.

The struggle is real. Not only here in Kenya but in so many countries. Hunger and poverty is eating people. We need to become really responsible on how we eat, how much we eat and how we use the water that we have in abundance. We need to start thinking of those poor children as thin as our fingers, those very old men and women seated by the fire, watching the empty pot as if food is about to miraculously appear. We have to think of those mothers and fathers who have to face their children once again to say the same thing, "we don't have anything to eat. Be patient." How they have to live with two kinds of pain; one of their own struggle and two, the pain of their children. We have to measure what amount to cook and how much water to use. We have to really REALLY try helping those who are hungry when we can. Let us pray sincerely for them and for their children. Let us also pray for all those who dedicate their time, money and energy to buy and provide them with food. These people are our real heroes and the least they deserve from us is prayers; they are doing what most of us have failed to do. 

May God give these families the patience and easen it for them. May He protect us from hunger and grant us the hearts to feed others when we can. Ameen...and today, when you go to eat, check how full your plate is. Thank God for it. Share it if it is more than you need. Make a difference in someone's life.

ALHAMDULILAH FOR BASIC NECESSITIES #WEEK 1 CHALLENGE

Illustration by: ayeina.com


So...we agreed to have a weekly list of the things we are grateful for this Ramadhan. This first week was on basic necessities and the following is what I came up with.

DAY 1: This year is perhaps the toughest for many people. We lost so many of our friends, colleagues, relatives. Some died from Dengu fever while others died from Hepatitis. Some died in accidents while others had sudden deaths. This is my first year where I feared my own death more than any other. It is still my first time to see so many of my age mates go to Allah all of a sudden. It scared me that I wouldn't live to see Ramadhan or even repent properly. It scared me to have to face Allah with so many faults still inscribed in my book. Today I look at this day as a gift from Allah. So many thought they would live to today. So many wished they witnessed another Ramadhan...but unfortunately they didn't. How then can I not say alhamdulilah for breathing? For being alive? Alhamdulilah for the gift of life. It is only by Allah's mercy that He granted me another chance to repent and get closer to Him.May Allah shower His mercy upon all those who left us and may He grant them and us too, His highest level of jannah. May He grant us many more Ramadhans in shaa Allah 🙏


DAY 2: As I sat on the table during iftar, I looked at my plate full of food. Not just food; a variety of it. From the sweet stuff to the salty to the main food. I looked at it and remembered how many years now so many Muslims in Syria, Iraq, Yemen, Libnan and many other countries have NOTHING to break their fast. Not even a morsel of bread. Not even a drop of water or a single date. As I keep filling my stomach each and every other day, these people do not even remember the smell of food let alone of it's taste. Yet they still fast, yet they still wake up for suhoor; not to eat but to pray to Allah. Yet they still worship Allah day and night. The old amongst them and the children too. Ya Allah, thank you for the blessing of food that you give us in abundance.


DAY 3: I read a book on fatawas on Muslim women today. It was enlightening and I learnt some notable things. Being able to get education is another blessing of it's own. Many wish they could understand the qur'an and the deen yet they lack the basic knowledge to do so. Alhamdulilah for this ne3ma. May He make us amongst those who seek His knowledge (of deen...and dunya too).


DAY 4: Swalatul Taraweh has it's own wonderful feeling. The tranquility, the amazing recitation of the qur'an, seeing the many people in the masjid lined up all praying to one Lord. All this I can just watch at the comfort of my own home, under a nice shelter as I am seated on a comfortable coach. Alhamdulilah for our humble homes. Alhamdulilah for a roof that doesn't leak, for a house that is filled with furniture to make us relax better. Alhamdulilah for all that we have that others don't.


DAY 5: Alhamdulilah foe electricity. I consider electricity a basic necessity because the modern world depends on it a lot. I imagine how it would be like if we lived many years back; breaking the fast in total darkness or partial. Right now we have so much light everywhere alhamdulilah. On the streets, in our homes, in our neighbourhoods. We can eat peacefully and in a more comfortable way. We can pray taraweh and tahajjud using the speakers in the masjids and come back home safely. We can wake up for suhoor and eat without a problem. Alhamdulilah for this noor in our lives.


DAY 6: Mashallah as early as now, some people have already bought eid dresses and kanzus. I look into my wardrobe and I see abundance. I have what to wear today and tomorrow and the next day and the next next. Alhamdulilah. We are privileged. I am privileged and blessed for the variety of clothing for both warm and cold seasons. For eid and for weddings. For all kind of events. Alhamdulilah.


DAY 7: Alhamdulilah...it is already the end of the first week. Subhanallah how time flies. But I am grateful to have experienced the end of the first week. That I have my sight and my hearing that are guiding me to publish my #Alhamdulilah list right now. That I am healthy and all my body parts are functioning. Alhamdulilah for all my physical parts.

As we begin the second week I would like to remind you that it is not too late to write your own list. This following week in shaa Allah we are writing on: #Alhamdulilah For Family ties
I hope you will try and participate this time round. You don't have to post it if you don't wish to. You can as well thank Allah directly every single day for a different thing. Don't miss out on this amazing mini-project! Till end of next week in shaa Allah, stay blessed 😊

YOU ARE DEFINITELY NOT A FAILURE

Photo Courtesy: https://www.etsy.com

I dreamt about Maths today. And when you hear me talk about it you would think I am talking of a lover who broke my heart. The dream was dreadful that I had to force myself wake up 😃 The last time I had a Math exam was five years ago in high school because right after that I said ENOUGH IS ENOUGH Math. I am definitely breaking up with you for good. 

But guess what? Foolish Math won't leave me alone. I keep having disturbing dreams of me being in an exam room doing a Math exam and totally being blank. When it isn't a Math paper it is Chemistry lol. Please don't remind me of molecules right now. So back to last night's dream. I was back in high school, doing a Math exam and I couldn't even remember how to calculate perimeter. Was it Length plus Width? I leave the exam room to eat chocolate 😃 with my high school friend; we call her Ms Wheels 😃 Perhaps that was to make me calm down and remember a few things. When we come back people are done with the exam and guess what?! My paper is not on my desk anymore. I couldn't find it. Oh now this was becoming depressing. So I decided to force myself wake up. I didn't want to see the end of it 😣

Got me thinking, why do I still dream of Maths out of the MANY beautiful things in my life and in this world? It could be because I really struggled with Maths during my high school era and it was stressing that as much as I put in so much effort into it I barely improved. It was a major failure to me and perhaps that remains stuck in my sub-conscious to date and haunts me in terms of my dreams. It brings me back to the exam room where the failure happened over and over again like a nightmare. Funny thing though is that I never really assumed that the failures had such great impact on me without even noticing it. I wasn't a complete idiot with zero but I also didn't perform as I expected.

And I know for a fact that I am not the only one who is being haunted by a failure of the past.

Maybe you started dieting but never lost weight.

Maybe you had a business but never got profit.

Maybe you married but couldn't save the marriage.

Maybe you didn't win the competition.

Maybe you didn't become a super cook as you wanted.

Maybe you didn't make a change after all.

The maybe's could go on and on...bottom line is: you feel you are a failure and that could be eating you up subconsciously.

One great lesson I learnt from my own experience is that: however poor you may be in one thing, you are amazingly superb in something else. Your brain can't fail you entirely. Maybe you failed in being the master chef at your home but you could be the best teacher around.

You may not be the best footballer as you wished but you turned out to be a genius in mechanics.

You may be poor in academics but very intelligent in social and current affairs of the world.

You may have failed in being a powerful public speaker but you are too amazing as a writer.

You may not realize this immediately but failures are what make us better people in life. They make us pursue our strengths and our talents. They make us determined and passionate to be who we want to become.

When I think of my own example of Maths and Chemistry, I imagine how my life would be so different if I managed to succeed very well in them. I would have probably become a pediatrician. I wouldn't have taken onto my dream journey of becoming a writer. I wouldn't have explored my talents in Journalism class. I wouldn't be having this website. You wouldn't be reading this right now. Of course I would have found other good things on the other field but I would not be what I am today. 

And you know one of the consoling things for me is that when you go into a Journalism class, 90% of us didn't do so well in Maths and Sciences. Maybe just one or two B grades 😃 In my class we used to really laugh about it because even the lecturers know why we are there; one of the reasons is to totally AVOID Maths. So I learnt that it was okay to be a failure in Maths and sciences. I wasn't alone so nothing was wrong with me after all. It IS okay. Yes we avoided what we are not good at to explore what is beyond amazing for us.

So whatever 'failure' you have gone through, it's time to change the mentality. Well that includes me of course. Let's change the name of 'failure' to 'an eye-opener to my better potentials.' Use all those low points in your life to discover what best suits you and what amazing things you can do with your brain or your hands. You are definitely not a failure. You are a genius still exploring your potentials. Keep going you will get there by God's will.

KENYANS NEVER LEARN

Photo Courtesy: zipo.co.ke

Something silly about Kenyans; they never learn. I mean, wasn't 2007 post-election the biggest lesson for us as a country? Seeing the CORD anti-IEBC demos in Kisumu is just like watching the prediction of 2017 post-elections. It is dreadful. It is scary. It is alarming.

I have never been a fan of politics. In fact I never write about it. For a humanitarian, politics is just a filthy cloth to touch let alone wear. Although humanity is connected to politics such that it is best when they intertwine (i.e. good leadership and kind souls can do wonders to our country) these two things rarely ever come together over here. I am not politically affiliated, never have been and i'm not planning to be.

For the past few days the headlines have been about the CORD demos in Kisumu and how 8 Kenyans were shot by the police. Among those 8 injured is baby Jeremy who is just 6 years old. This angel at such a tender age already knows what it means to have a bullet in your body. This poor child has suffered the pain of having a hole dug in his body. He knows what it feels like going into the operation room, to be cut and to be bloody. You see his face and he is expressionless. But do you know lack of expressions is more saddening than it's visibility. Seeing him cry means he is in pain but seeing him speechless means he is still trying to fathom what just happened. He is trying to let it sink in. He is drowning in the excruciating pain. His poor single mother doesn't even know how to handle the situation. 

But why, why don't Kenyans ever learn??!

2007 post election violence clearly showed us what it really means to be a Kenyan. We were oppressed. We; the common Mwananchi. The local man who doesn't have any relation to any politician. It was us who became IDP's. Us who lost our mothers and fathers, our children and saw as our properties got burnt right in front of our eyes. It was us who were left with scars that will remain part of us for eternity. It wasn't Raila or Uhuru or Kibaki or any other politician. It was us. They weren't even scratched by all that happened. It was our floors filled with blood, tear gas, random gun shots and screams of agony. When will we ever learn that we are being our own enemies; digging our own graves??!

The demos in Kisumu have even affected the schools and businesses such that people and children are scared to go on with their daily activities. So now the minister of internal affairs has declared that there shouldn't be any more demos due to the chaos taking place but will this rule be followed? And you know Kenyans hehe so long as it is not him or her who was injured, they will still appear the next time they are called for such. 

If we are not careful, we are slowly creating another war to occur come next year elections. All this seems to be a shadow. If we don't take it slow, we will definitely have more bloodshed, tear gas, police hitting Kenyans like dogs and more torture. Politicians are not your fathers to come nurse you when you are in the hospital after being shot from the chaos they started. Yes, it is true that it is our votes that count, that it is our votes that makes a good leader take the seat but let's learn to play our cards well just like they play their cards marvelously. Be smart. Act smart. Learn how to see through your politicians. Be your neighbour's keeper, and not the reason they are having a funeral. And most importantly, be a loyal Mwananchi to your fellow Wananchi. 

WHY WE DESPERATELY NEED A MOON-SIGHTING SOLUTION IN KENYA

Everything about Ramadhan in Kenya is beautiful except one thing: moon sighting. It is confusing and even more annoying how we allow it to cause divisions between us. Year in year out we have heard the SAME.ISSUES over and over again.

1. Someone sighted the moon but the kadhi's phone was off

2. People sending pictures of the moon on their first day of fasting and saying that it is thicker than 'yesterday'as a proof that it is indeed the first day 

3. The kadhi is just following the government dates with the name 'chief kazi'

4. The moon has been sighted in areas in Kenya but the kadhi wouldn't agree to it.

This has been the same theory every beginning and end of Ramadhan. I am not about to take sides because I am among the people who are very saddened by these misunderstandings of sharia. I also want to eagerly learn shariah and a student of deen listens and not mocks.

My teachers in deen, majority of them follow the moon seen anywhere in the world. Yet whenever they taught about this issue they made it clear that although they follow the world, there are fatawas of different ulamaas all over the world including Ibn Uthaymeen who agreed that each country should follow their own moon. This includes the lajna (council) of Suudiya which also gave their fatwa that each country should follow their own country and not specifically follow them. As such we became a world divided thrice when it comes to moon sighting:

Those who follow the kadhi i.e. their own countries

Those who follow Suudiya

Those who follow the whole world

Of which the first and the third ideologies are the strongest since following Suudiya alone has been declared wrong by the sheikhs of there already.

Nonetheless it is very clear that this issue won't be resolved anytime soon or ever at all. All we have to do is respect our different views but it would have been better if we had very serious moon sighting procedures. Those who claim to have called the kadhi every year and never find him, we need to really find out how that happens. How true is it? Perhaps we should have a lajna too such that other respectable people together alongside the regional kadhis and the chief kadhi can be contacted and not specifically him alone.

When it comes to sending photos of the moon after the end of the first day, when the moon was 'seen' the previous day where were all those smart phones and nikon cameras? Alhamdulilah Allah has blessed us with technology, if the Kadhi is not picking the phone then why not take the photos and show the proof on that same day instead of the next day?

To add on that the prophet peace be upon him never asked us to check the thickness of the moon but the sight of it. Be it here or anywhere else that you follow please do understand that the thickness of the moon can never be used as a justification that the moon has been seen. The moon is one the entire world but it is seen in some places and that is the hikma of Allah that some places the moon is covered by the clouds and unseen. Plus there are longitudinal differences for example We and Suudiya have the same time based on the longitudes but our prayer timings are different (based on lunar calendar). Even a closer example is how we in Mombasa can pray 10/15 minutes before Nairobi and when we go further on the longitude the later they pray than us. So the problem here is that we haven't understood the lunar calendar and learnt its details and the hikmah of it. Imagine people in Europe who are fasting in summer it comes up to 18/19 hours of fasting. When Ramadhan falls on winter they fast for about 6 hours. So Ramadhan keeps rotating and they get to fast longer and shorter hours every year. That is the hikmah of Allah. Imagine if Ramadhan followed the solar calendar, it would be fixed seasons such that some fasted permanently on longer hours than others and some would not be able to fast at all. What about the North and South pole? They have 6 months of sunshine how would they be fasting continuously if it was based on solar timings? How unfair would that be?

S

o from that the hadith didn't say about how big the moon is but fasting according to the sight of it.

Again what one of my teachers of deen said of how he used to follow the kadhi yet he changed to following the entire world after his further studies in Shariah. And every other sheikh has their own reasons for following whichever country they do but one thing they keep saying is that we shouldn't fight in this holy month because of that. The kadhi does not make his decisions alone. This is a huge responsibility on his shoulders and it won't be easy to just make reckless decisions as many assume. And whatever his decisions he very well knows that he takes full responsibility of the ummah. He is someone's parent, brother and son so let's stop abusing him. 

What we desperately need right now is the ulamaas in Kenya to have a conference and come with a serious solution on how moon sighting should take place such that the Kenyans themselves can be satisfied with the procedures. This would involve the different regional kadhis as well and the scholars amongst us. Perhaps they should have more trusted people allocated in the interior areas as informants of the moon. I really dream of something like this to happen. How wonderful would it be if fatwas were given and we are all able to fast and break it together. We should borrow a leaf from Abu dhabi who used to follow Suudiya previously yet this time they decided to form their own council consisting of sheikhs and scholars of astronomy to record the sighting of the moon in their own area including the interior parts. Yesterday it wasn't until 8 p.m after they confirmed that it has been sighted in their area is when they announced the beginning of Ramadhan.

The prophet peace be upon him said that divisions will be among the signs of qiyamah...so yes, they were bound to happen whether we want it or not. Let us just pray that Allah guides us into making the right decisions and forgiving us for taking wrong steps. For most of us who are arguing about it are not even in the least bit knowledgeable in matters of deen or even understand geography. Follow whichever country or sheikh you want but don't get abusive. The arguments are becoming too lame now. Nothing new to talk about; same old claims always. No one is being threatened with a gun to follow anyone. Let us start the Ramadhan peacefully and end it in the same way in shaa Allah. Moon sighting should not be moon fighting. We are one people. Such differences should not be a reason for non Muslims to laugh or mock us for it. May Allah easen for us and grant us the ability to do lots of ibadah and have the knowledge of deen. May He accept our deeds and forgive us our misdeeds. Ameen.

THIS THING CALLED LOVE

Artist: Sunita Khedekar

They say too much of everything is poisonous. Everything includes love. But for love, too much of it is not just poisonous. It is disastrous. It is catastrophic. It is devastating. It is all that is beyond toxic. 

It is what is making people commit suicide.
It is what makes people become murderers.
It is what makes people go insane.
It is what makes people lose themselves forever.
It is what makes people never trust again...
And not just romantic love but also material love, friendship love...whatever kind it is, it is agonizing when it exceeds the normal rate especially romantic love.

But let's first rewind to how this whole thing called love starts.

I've always been a dreamer myself but when it comes to love I believe in reality as the clear picture. Perhaps it is because I have a very different view of love in general. My friends have always thought I am just too much of a hater to love and that I am too naive to actually understand it all. Well in this case, naivety is honestly bliss. It is actually ironic because I am such a lover of humanity and humanity goes hand in hand with love but I guess this is where my different definition comes in. I remember an instance years back when a friend told me of her relationship and I told her my honest thoughts of it in which her boyfriend decided to declare me jealous "because I had never been loved like that before". Lol he should come to my home and see how my mother treats me like a baby. Love is love and when it is filial it is way powerful. I won't say love is not something beautiful. I won't say it is all pain and anguish but I will say it is not the most fulfilling feeling in this life as some perceive it. 

One of the most accurate theories of love I have ever heard is one in Arabic language which speaks of how it usually just starts with a glance then a smile then greeting then a conversation then a date then it ends up in bed. It doesn't happen so always but most of it starts like that. I always tend to look at the larger picture. Look at what is to be anticipated in this thing called love, ten years to come. At the beginning it's such a fairy tale, a bubble filled with tinier colourful air bubbles, a fantasy of romance and anticipation of 'happily ever after'. It is intense passion and that phase of 'I cant live without him/her' but slowly with time comes the comfort phase where the fire has calmed down and it is just the caring and loving feeling that keeps you together. But even that doesn't always last long because this is when reality strikes. The honeymoon is over and it is time to pay bills and the house is dirty, needs to be cleaned,and the food needs to be cooked and each of your claws and flaws now start appearing. It is here when looks no longer matter and character and piousness is vital. It is at this point that you both need patience and understanding to break the walls. It is here when all the roses that were on the bed before start tearing you with it's thorns. At this stage it's either the comfort or the falling-out-of-love stage. Because trust me what comes next is either just routine with sparks of love here and there or just a gradual downfall of your marriage or love story or whatever.

I strongly believe in the wisdom behind the disapproval of teen love. Not because it is wrong to love but because we seek it at the wrong time with the wrong people. I have seen and witnessed enough to not believe in fantasy in the name of love. For me, life is the best teacher and the best experience. I have seen love-based marriages last only a month, I have seen couples who fought for each other for so long that you knew nothing would ever separate them yet I saw them fall out of love. I have seen the glimmer of love in the eyes die. I have seen lovers who ended up living together just as a routine yet it once started as one of the greatest love stories. Perhaps I am being a pessimist here or just that I am such an observer but I have learnt that love isn't something to depend on entirely in your life. It dies. It ends. It gets buried. If you are lucky enough you will see the remaining sparks of it as you grow old and frail. If this is what happens to married people; people who've known each other inside out, people who've worn each other's hearts on their sleeves then what do we expect from our immature brains and unfocused goals of life? I remember another incident of a mate who once talked to me about his girlfriend and when I told him it won't last he said, "I hope I will still be in touch with you years from now so you see me marry her" Barely one or two years later he broke up with her and when I asked what happened he said, "Just like that..." Oh yeah...must be that he fell out of love.

Perhaps this is why I am not really a fan of writing about love or even talking about it because I know what I will say is not what you want to hear. You want to hear that it is beautiful, it is amazing, it is the best feeling in the world. You want to hear more of "happily ever after" but for me I will just tell you bluntly how much you could be wasting your energy and time on a person who won't even look at you twice few months or even years from now. I know you want to object right now. You want to tell me of the lovers you know who are now happily married with cute children like themselves. I know you want me to bet on your life as well and that you are definitely going to be with him/her for the rest of your life. It's fine. I know how being optimistic is important for you right now...and I won't disagree that there are several love birds who actually married and are happy as we talk but let's count how many they are. And when I mention love birds here I don't mean those who fell in love and sought the right way by approaching parents, I mean those who were in a relationship or serious dating. How many of such have actually succeeded after marriage.

When that routine phase finally comes, it is when things just get cold and you barely have anything left to talk about. Sometimes it is just one partner who suffers it all. Perhaps still holding onto that teen passion that has long died in the spouse. She keeps fighting to bring back things as they were yet her energy all goes to waste. A friend of mine likes using this example about such love...it is like a wall between two people; two lovers and the wall is about to fall. Both of you need to exert pressure on the wall from both ends to make the wall stand upright once again. But here is the woman...or even the man maybe, exerting all the pressure yet the partner is not doing anything. He/she keeps pushing the wall, trying to make it upright with all her/his energy until it finally falls off on the partner's side. Yes, it is because she was doing it single-handedly. Love is a two-way thing. He pushes She pushes. You both need to work hard to actually make it work. Yet you are here struggling so hard to make someone at least notice your sacrifices but they just never see it. This is when love becomes toxic. Because it ruins, it destroys, it makes someone lose themselves as they seek someone else. If they are not your spouse then it is definitely not worth it. Prior marriage love is most of the times either just lust or a fantasy. 

When you see an old couple still finding comfort and warmth from each other then do know that they have fought battles and moved mountains to get them where they are. It takes a lot of energy, honesty, humbleness, appreciation, patience, upright manners to make two people go back to passion just when they were about to go to routine phase. Perhaps this is why you should really respect the humble beginnings of your parents too if they are still together. It is not easy to over look so many flaws from a person and still love them deeply and sincerely. So yes, true love does exist. But only at the right time and of course, with the right person.

If you are in any such fantasy about love then you need to wake up. You need to understand that love is not what you imagine at 18, that life has so many surprises yet to come. You need to understand there is something called fate, that it is okay even if it is the 21st Century, to be single. And when you are principled and attached to God then things couldn't get any better for you. You need to know that you have to really really REALLY love yourself first before anything else. And most importantly you need and must understand that love is definitely not the purpose of our lives.

DOCTOR; BY HEART OR BY THE POCKET?

I always wanted to be a doctor, a pediatrician to be precise. That was my childhood dream and I grew up admiring the white coat and the stethoscope on the neck. I wanted to save lives. I wanted to make a difference in children's lives. But isn't that what many, if not all of us, grew up dreaming of? 

We grew up being fed with the information that being a doctor is being a hero. Being a star more than superman or spiderman. It meant changing the world. We grew up watching series like ER, Grey's anatomy, Scrubs, The mob doctors, House...and the list is endless... and we knew for sure this is it. This is what I want to become. Well, for me, that was before reality hit me hard and I hard to divorce the science and math world. Even so, I never really stop feeling nostalgic of my childhood dream. I would have had fun playing around with crying babies in the hospital oh without forgetting singing and dancing nursery rhymes lol is that even real? Whom am I kidding? 😁

Going back to history when we didn't have all these pills, machines and vaccines, even then, the herbalists were highly regarded. They were close to the king's status. They were honoured and considered noble. Therefore it is no big surprise that more than 50% of the parents in the world want their children to be doctors. Doesn't matter if it is a surgeon, a cardiologist, neurologist, psychiatrist, pharmacist, dermatologist, radiologist, dentist...you name it. So long as we have the 'st' at the end of the word then we good to go right?

We will all agree that the job done by doctors is a sacrifice that very few can actually take up to. Working over 24 hours, lacking sleep, operating for almost an entire day, dozing on the benches, missing out A LOT on family events and hanging out with friends...The course itself is too tiresome and going over a long period of time. It takes a lot of hard work, passion, dedication, energy, oh and college money to actually work it through. Perhaps this is exactly why they really deserve to be our heroes. But then the course of things in the medicine world started changing when doctors shifted their focus from the heart to the pocket. Doctors; is it by soul or by the money? This is where we got it all wrong. When our heroes valued the money more than humanity.

I usually wonder sometimes when I see very poor people getting really sick, I wonder, how do they get through to get their medication? Of course God doesn't neglect anyone. He always brings ways for us during our hard times but apart from that, how do they survive? I mean, seeing a specialist of any kind let's say neurologist or cardiologist costs one almost four thousand, five thousand, for just an appointment with the doctor. Just to look at his face and hear his golden words. No, don't get me wrong. Yes, these doctors very well deserve it. It is their hard work. It is their hard earned money but this disqualifies them from being our heroes any longer. And this is how poor people die miserably in their homes because have you ever thought what this four/five...ten thousand is for them? That could be their entire salary. That could be the food plus school fees plus rent plus water for the whole month. That could be a fortune for them. And then that is not all. After that you tell this same person in a something that looks like a clothe because it can't even be regarded as a clothe. It is similar but it is not. It is rags, they are in torn shoes and have rough sore hands. You tell this same person to make almost four tests which would cost them maybe another two thousand without forgetting the medication that would also cost them another fortune. What are you tying to tell them? Go away? Because of course you are chasing them away with your prices. You are indirectly telling them 'you deserve to die miserably because you can't afford to see me'. It is telling them 'this is not your place to be'.This is how we see poor souls crowding in Coast general and many other public hospitals desperately trying to get help. Anxiously waiting for the time when doctors would leave their private hospitals to come have a peep at them in the public hospitals. This is how nurses treat them like 'you ain't gonna tell me nothing. You are just here by our mercy'and treat them worse than the street dogs. They still come though. What should they do? This is the only place they can find a little bit of humanity left. So they wake up while the world is still dark and quiet, rush to the hospital to be the first in line and then wait and wait and wait for hours before the honourable doctor walks in to serve them. You see the fatigue, the helplessness, the anxiousness, the sickness on their faces all at once. What happened to our heroes?

But I will tell you this, although many doctors became what they became so as to acquire their current bank balance, there are some who continue being legends of our times. There are some who have put humanity at the front before money. 

There is a doctor in our neighbourhood who is so kind; so humane that you would just be amazed by his nature. He works with his wife in their private clinic and over the years I saw this doctor not charging a shilling to patients whom he wasn't able to establish their illnesses. He doesn't charge the patients before but after. If he couldn't assist you or if he just asked you to do a few tests he doesn't charge you for talking to him. 

I have seen him treating poor people several times free of charge. He sometimes even gives the medicines free of charge. He treats others on credit when they request so. I have seen him showing utmost kindness to his patients and I swear I am a witness to how much he and his wife prospered over the years. They opened their own maternity clinic which also keeps expanding with time. I have seen how God blessed him and his family. And it makes me think, if we just had a few more private doctors who served their communities whole-heartedly and with humbleness, how then would we have over crowded public hospitals with desperate patients crying their souls out for the pain? I am not saying the government is not to blame for not establishing more and proper medical institutions for the less advantaged communities but let's accept it; we can always do better when we stand for humanity; when we support and help each other.

If you are a doctor and reading this, this is a challenge for you. Are you really the hero you claimed to be? Are you satisfied and proud by how you have held that title of a 'doctor'? Are you a doctor by the soul or by the pocket??

THE NAIROBI EXPERIENCE AND BAKE AWARDS

Photo Courtesy: Bloggers Association of Kenya

You know the expression people give you when you say you haven't been to Nairobi? 😲😲 'Like are you for real? Who doesn't go to Nairobi?' They make it seem like you haven't gone for the life-changing pilgrimage. They never even react like that when you say you never go to church or the mosque. So this time round I went, for the first time, to Nairobi. Well I once passed by as transit to Nakuru for a journalism competition but that was it. 

Going to Nairobi for a paranoid person is not all that a fun trip. In my entire journey I thought of how I should have perhaps carried my 'war kit'...you know, just in case, especially with all these scary theories about Nairobi and it's residents. I should have carried a dagger, a knife, a poisonous spray, rat poison and a rope just in case I meet one of the robbers or psychopathetics. I would first spray into his eyes, followed by stabbing with the dagger, forcing the rat poison down his throat, hang him if all that doesn't work then finally cut him down into into pretty pieces of what could make a delicious meal for the cats back home. This would be my souvenir from Nairobi because getting the BAKE trophy seems quite impossible at this stage. Having Biko and Magunga as fellow competitors is like jogging like Mr Bean then go on a race with Usain Bolt and David Rudisha. So perhaps having some fresh meat would at least make a few fellas happy in my neighbourhood. Okay people, relax, i'm no murderer. Just precautionary measures you know 😁

On alighting at Nairobi; River road, all I could see are these very many people moving across back and forth in very quick steps. As I walked fast, I just realized that the place was rather scary. I mean, when was the last time I saw such large numbers of people in the streets of Mombasa? Perhaps it was during a charity walk or a political rally? Where do all these people come from anyway? It's like God dropped a handful of people on the land of Nairobi and said 'Go!' then the crowd spread about like tiny termites each on their own agenda. Everyone busy. Everyone in a hurry. Later on I went to the loo of a certain mall and even there, the place was crowded. Too much chaos. In Mombasa you could go to a loo and dance in front of the mirror, record an entire song, apply make up and still no one appears to interrupt your peace 😁

As I walked around town I kept greeting people then I just turned to my cousin, "oh I forgot...people don't say hi here right?" What a life. I was totally confused which street is OK to receive phone calls and which taxi driver could take you safely to your destination without kidnapping you. I barely trust the tuktuks in Mombasa so what about taxis here?! And these people earn money wah! And that is without mentioning that there is no 'near'place. No walking distance. Oh God bless Mombasa for it's easy life😁

I had heard of the pretty cold weather of Nairobi but when I arrived it was almost like Mombasa cold days. No big deal really. So I sarcastically started questioning 'sasa hii ndiyo baridi nnayoskia?!' (now is this the cold I hear of?!' Going to bed, I wore a very light dress and a sweater then just as it became darker I started feeling the cold in my veins. I started shivering. Like literally shaking. Like what we used to write in our inshas 'nilitetemeka tem tem falau ya kifaranga katika baridi ya kipupwe' Is the saying like this? Lol. I don't remember anymore. The house girl had her rib cracking laughter looking at me shiver at the middle of the bed, seated, unable to stretch my hands to my bag beside the bed to get something else to wear on top. Or perhaps that was panic and anticipation for the next day's event? Maybe. Maybe not. The next day I decided that I had learnt my lesson and wore pretty heavy and that was the day the sun was shining like no other. That was Nairobi weather for me 

I've never really been an event/party person. People means chaos for me. It means dressing up for the occasion. It means calculating how to respond when men give you their hands to shake. It means turning into an extrovert overnight. It means ladies looking at you and wondering why you didn't put on make up. Oh and some ask you by the way 😂 It's like a body feature is missing. Okay thanks to mum for ensuring I wore a cinderella dress that she made herself with so much love. Well of course she also made sure to get me heels lest I wore sneakers to the event. Trust me I would have but by then, I would be dead 😂 Well fortunately, most men nowadays know about the issue of shaking hands and Muslim ladies so they just smile and respect that. It gets pretty awkward sometimes but well, they are learning 😊

Just when I got to Radisson Blu hotel, I was welcomed by the ushers who were in 'sare'. What is sare in English by the way? Similar outfits will do I guess 😀 I went all alone, sat alone at the back, hoping no one tries talking to me. But then I decided to find out where my fellow Mombasian competitor was and joined the family somewhere in the middle. I still sat alone. To avoid awkward conversations like:

"So are you a nominee?"
"Yes..
"Which one?"
"Strokes of my pen? Lubnah?"
"Oh no I've never heard of that. Which is that? Is it a travel blog?"
"Lol. It's creative writing."
"Oh the one when mentioned no one cheered?" 😂
"Yeah. That same one."
"Oh you mean with kina Biko!"
"Yes. Biko."

They say you are not a blogger until you know Biko. Oh man he deserves it really. So now that has become my biggest weapon to get the masters to talk to me. After the event I went round talking to a few people here and there plus James of BAKE made sure I met people I should know as a writer. And whenever I mentioned my blog no one knew of it. They heard it first time at the event. But then just when I mentioned that I was in creative writing category with 'akina Biko' I could see how suddenly people's eyes grew bigger and were looking at me with keener interest. I recollected all my courage and spoke like am about to drop a grenade of wisdom. Oh well, with the masters, you must show them that you are worth listening to.

And you know the worst part of it is that Biko himself never showed up. How does someone win two awards and not show up? This guy is such a man and a half. Like a boss. Such style lol. Hehe that is how good writers can use suspense and be mysterious in such a cool way. Had he come, I would perhaps have shared my plate with him and thanked him for 'allowing' me to use his name to create my own 😁 But then I met Magunga which is also a great gain. The masters of writing and art. I just hope I meet Wanja Kavengi soon. I want to thank her for making me laugh whenever I read her posts 😀😊

Well honestly this a great experience for me alhamdulilah. I just wished we had more Coastal nominees and Muslims as well. From the attendants I just saw around 5 Muslims and from the Coast. Where are all the rest whom I keep reading their work and marvel at their greatness??! I just hope next year we have not less than 10 Muslim and/or Coasterians being nominated. We have all it takes and all that is needed. We just have to stop sleeping on our talents. So if you got your blog filled with internet cobwebs and dust please clean it up and start afresh. If I could get there I don't see why anyone else can't. So best wishes to all the upcoming writers. Congratulations to all the BAKE winners and nominees and thanks again to all those who voted for me, those who read my blog, those who believe in me and inspire me to keep inspiring. Let's meet next year in shaa Allah!

1. 
   

CONCEAL; DON'T FEEL!

Photo Courtesy: Unknown

"Conceal
Don't feel.
Don't let them know."

~Frozen

When a boy notices his tendency to cry a lot or even be more emotional than expected then this is when Anna's words become a consolation. You feel you are not alone in this; not alone in the hiding and burying. Not alone in the turning away from the inner you, the real you that wants to scream, that wants to cry, that wants to break down, that needs a hug or at least a pat on the shoulder. So you shut the doors and put a pillow on your face so that no one hears you silent cries. You lock yourself in loo and cry until you have no more tear for anyone to see or simply go mute on everyone. No one should know. You have to hide or else everyone will raise their eyebrows at you, "dude are you normal?"
"Are you straight?"😒

The girls are usually the victims of this but for the few boys who are characterized as 'sensitive' then they definitely have a hard time.

As boys grow up they keep hearing it over and over again, 'real men don't cry', 'man up' 'be strong' 'be like a soldier or a lion...' 'Are you a girl to be a cry baby?' But anyway who brought up this notion? This foolish theory that when a man cries he isn't 'real' anymore? What does 'real' mean anyway? Does it mean that the boys who cry a lot or show their emotions have any less of the y chromosomes or perhaps they should freak out and see a psychologist whether they may be turning gay?? 😲

I say it is foolish because I believe in a person who feels. It means they have extra ordinary power to connect with others. It means they love others honestly. It means they are strong enough to respect their inner self that is wounded. It means they are simply not allowing their ego to overtake their soul. It means that despite all the tears and feels, they are strong enough to admit that they are in pain and that pain needs to be let out. It means that although everyone expects them to be fierce and hard so as to be recognized as 'strong', they decided to have their own definition of 'strong'. It means they are humane and feel for others. It means they are special.

Yes, they are definitely special. These cry babies are the ones who will make the best of husbands and fathers. As much as some women may argue that emotional men can't protect them and would probably cry with them during tough situations instead of acting immediately, do remember that the Y chromosome in him still exists. He will protect you more than the man with an ego would ever do. He will protect you because he is true to you; because he won't ever want you to get hurt especially because of him.
And hey man, if a woman ever mocks you over your emotional make-up then she is simply not worth it. If it is family or even friends then just over-look the criticisms. Sometimes you just need to ignore what people think about you.

These men you call cry babies are ones who will restore humanity whenever, simply because they feel extra ordinarily and with deep empathy for others. They are the ones who keep touching hearts and inspiring people. So if you one of them, please feel free to cry and break down and feel extensively. If the inner self is wounded and needs to bleed then please bleed if you need to. Don't let your ego destroy your beautiful soul. Your tears are your power so use that power to make a difference. Do know that the best of mankind (men) were seen in tears and were known for their empathy and deep emotions. So never feel ashamed over who you are. Your soul is simply amazing and that; that should really make you proud :)