THE GREATNESS OF PROPHET MUHAMMAD (P.B.U.H) [PT. 1]

In his book ‘100 most influential persons in history’, Michael Hart ranked Prophet Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him) as number one:

“My choice of Muhammad to lead the list of the world’s most influential persons may surprise some readers and may be questioned by others, but he was the only man in history who was supremely successful on both the religious and secular levels.

Of humble origins, Muhammad founded and promulgated one of the world’s great religions, and became an immensely effective political leader. Today, thirteen centuries after his death, his influence is still powerful and pervasive.

The majority of the persons in this book had the advantage of being born and raised in centers of civilization, highly cultured or politically pivotal nations. Muhammad, however, was born in the year 570, in the city of Mecca, in southern Arabia, at that time a backward area of the world, far from the centers of trade, art, and learning. Orphaned at age six, he was reared in modest surroundings. Islamic tradition tells us that he was illiterate. His economic position improved when, at age twenty-five, he married a wealthy widow. Nevertheless, as he approached forty, there was little outward indication that he was a remarkable person…” A RANKING OF THE MOST INFLUENTIAL PERSONS IN HISTORY by Michael H. Hart.

This may be a surprise to the non-Muslims of today but even during the pre-Islamic period and before prophethood, Muhammad peace be upon him was known for his exemplary behavior and outstanding dealings with other human beings. He was nicknamed ‘Assadiqul ameen’ to mean ‘Honest and Trustworthy’ and he was distinguished among his people for his modesty, gentleness, virtuous and graceful manners and his extreme kindness.

“He was an exemplary man of weighty mind and faultless insight. He was favoured with intelligence, originality of thought and accurate choice of the means leading to accurate choice of the means leading to accurate goals. His long silence helped favourably in his habit of meditation and deep investigation into the truth. His vivid mind and pure nature were helpfully instrumental in assimilating and comprehending ways of life and people, individual and community wise. He shunned superstitious practices but took an active part in constructive and useful dealings; otherwise, he would have taken a route to his self-adopted seclusion. He kept himself aloof from drinking wine, eating meat slaughtered on stone altars, or attending idolatrous festivals. He held the idols in extreme aversion and disgust. He could never tolerate someone swearing by Al-Lat and Al-Uzza.” (The Sealed Nectar by Safi-ur-Rahman, page 81)

It is said that during a conversation with Muhammad aleyhi ssalam, Bahirah, the monk in Syria swore, ‘Bi Llata wal Uzza’ since this was the common swearing of the people in Makkah and Muhammad peace be upon him immediately expressed his detest by such swearing.

It is clear that Allah (S.W) protected him and detached his heart from evil practices even before his prophethood.

Al Bukhari reported on the authority of Jabir bin Abdullah peace be upon him that he said: ‘While the people were re-building Al-kaabah, the prophet Muhammad (S.A.W) went with ‘Abbas to carry some stones. ‘Abbas said: ‘Put your loincloth round your neck to protect you from the stones.’ (As he did that) the prophet fell to the ground and his eyes turned skyward. Later on, he woke up and shouted: ‘My loincloth…my loincloth.’ He wrapped himself in his loincloth.” (Sahih Al Bukhari. Chapter: The building of Al-Ka’bah, 1/540.)

In another instance where Allah (S.W) protected Muhammad (S.A.W) is a hadith reported by Ibn Al-Athir who reported Muhammad as saying: “I have never tried to do anything the people of ignorance did except for two times. Every time Allah intervened and checked me from doing so and I never did that again. Once I told my fellow shepherd to take care of my sheep when we were in the upper part of Makkah. I wanted to go down to Makkah and entertain myself as the young men did. I went down to the first to the first house in Makkah where I heard music. I entered and asked: ‘what is this?’ Someone answered: ‘It is a wedding party.’ I sat down and listened but soon went into a deep sleep. I was awakened by the heat of sun. I went back to my fellow-shepherd and told him what happened to me. I never tried it again.” (There is a disagreement over the authenticity of this hadith. Al-Hakim said that it was authentic but Adh-dhahabi graded it weak, as did Ibn Kathir in Al-Bidayah wan-Nihayah.)

Even after his first revelation at the cave and fear had engulfed him, his wife Khadijah peace be upon her tried to soothe and reassure him by saying: ‘Allah will never disgrace you. You unite uterine relations; you bear the burden of the weak; you help the poor and the needy, you entertain the guests and endure hardships in the path of truthfulness.’

Muhammad, peace be upon him was known for his love and mercy for children, for his relatives, neighbours…you name it! Michael Hart, the author of 100 most influential persons in history, as mentioned earlier stated how the prophet p.b.u.h was very well successful in both the secular and religious life. We as human beings struggle to bring a balance to anything in our lives. When we work, we miss out on spending valuable time with our family. When we spend valuable amount of time with our family, we reduce the amount of worship we do. When we focus on worshipping and family, our work is affected. How great then is the prophet p.b.u.h to have established such a strong and powerful religion while he still had the time to help his wives in cooking and other house chores? To have been able to win in all sectors from leadership to being a role model of the youth, to being a teacher, to being a strategic warrior at the war zone, to being a great father and husband? Isn’t this reason enough for the non-Muslims to believe in his prophethood, of how much we should follow his footsteps and emulate and love him?

• Aisha, the wife of the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh), was asked, “What did the Prophet (ﷺ) use to do in his house?” She replied, “He used to keep himself busy serving his family (كَانَ يَكُونُ فِي مِهْنَةِ أَهْلِهِ) and when it was the time for prayer he would go for it.” (Bukhari)

In another report Aisha is reported to have said, “He did what one of you would do in his house. He mended sandals and patched garments and sewed.” (Adab Al-Mufrad graded sahih by Al-Albani)

In yet another report it is said that she said, “He milked his goat.” (Ahmad)

He also said, “The best of you is the one who is best to his wife, and I am the best of you to my wives.” (Tirmidhi; Ibn Majah)

The prophet peace be upon him would always enter upon his wives smiling and happy, looking neat and a siwak in his mouth. He never bet any of his wives or even the slaves. Every morning after fajr prayers, he would sit at the same place worshipping until sunrise. He would then go to each of his nine wives to greet them and would make a dua for them. In another narration by Aisha, the prophet would make the visits during evening hours. During every dinner, he would bring all his wives together and eat with them. He was kind, merciful and loving to his wives and even loyal to his deceased first wife Khadijah bint Khuweylid.

The prophet peace be upon him married Khadijah bint Khuweylid, who was a successful business woman, when she was 40 years while he was just 25 years old. Yet she supported the prophet and believed in him when no one did. The prophet thus never forgot her ihsan (beneficence) to him and forever held her in very high esteem.

• It had been related by Abu Huraira that on one occasion, when Khadijah was still alive, Jibreel AS came to the Prophet SAW and said, “O Messenger of Allah, Khadijah is just coming with a bowl of soup (or food or drink) for you. When she comes to you, give her greetings of peace from her Lord and from me, and give her the good news of a palace of jewels in the Garden, where there will be neither any noise nor any tiredness.” It was also narrated by Ali (RA) that he heard the Prophet (PBUH) saying “Mary, the daughter of Imran, was the best among the women (of the world of her time) and Khadijah is the best amongst the women (of this nation).” (Sahih Al-Bukhari 58:164)That was how special Khadijah peace be upon her was and the prophet never stopped appreciating her.

• Aisha reported: “I never felt so jealous about any woman as I did for Khadija, although she had died three years before I married the Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him. That was because I heard him mentioning her so often and because his Lord has ordered him to give her glad tidings that she would have a palace in Paradise made of reeds; and also because the Prophet would slaughter a sheep and distribute its meat among her friends.” [Source: Sahih Bukhari 5658]

• Muhammad said about her "She believed in me when the whole world refuted me and she attested to my veracity when the whole world accused me of falsehood. She offered me compassion and loyalty with her wealth when everyone else had forsaken me."

Prophet Muhammad peace be upon him showed great understanding to his wives and not just them but with everyone else. One important matter he understood was of the jealousy that would naturally occur between any co-wives. As such, he was always merciful and compassionate to each one of them and treated them in a special way.

• Al-Bukhaari (5225) narrated that Anas said: “The Prophet (blessings and peace of Allah be upon him) was with one of his wives, when one of the Mothers of the Believers sent a bowl in which there was some food. The one in whose house the Prophet (blessings and peace of Allah be upon him) was struck the hand of the servant, and the bowl fell and broke. The Prophet (blessings and peace of Allah be upon him) picked up the pieces of the bowl, then he began to collect the food that was in it, and said, “Your mother got jealous.” Then he made the servant wait until the bowl belonging to the one in whose house he was, was brought. He gave the intact bowl to the one whose bowl had been broken, and he kept the broken bowl in the house of the one who had broken it.” It is believed the wife mentioned for getting jealous was Aishah peace be upon her.

Even in times of conflict and misunderstandings, his wives felt safest with him, with surety that he would never harm them.

• Nu'man ibn Bashirradiallahu 'anhusaid: That Abu Bakr sought permission to enter the Prophet's apartment. In the meantime he heard 'A'ishah speaking in a louder voice that the Prophet sallallahu 'alayhi wa sallam. When Abu Bakr entered the apartment, he caught 'A'ishah and said, "Beware! From now on I should never see you speaking thus." He wanted to slap her. The Prophet held Abu Bakr by the waist and thus saved 'A'ishah. Abu Bakr went out angrily. When Abu Bakr had gone, the Prophet said to 'A'ishah, "Well, how did I save you from the man." After a few days absence Abu Bakr again sought permission, and saw that both the Prophet and 'A'ishah were at peace. Then he said, "Let me enter in your peace as I had entered in your dispute." The Prophet said, "We do so, we do so." [Al-Bidayah, vol. VI, p. 46]

In another instance, the prophet peace be upon kneeled down and asked his wife Safiyyah to step on his lap to climb on the camel.

The prophet peace be upon him would also have casual conversations with his wives and he would listen without interrupting or saying he had better things to do. A good example of this is a narration by Aisha (Radi Allahu anha):

• “Eleven women sat (at a place) and promised and contracted that they would not conceal anything of the news of their husbands. The first one said, “My husband is like the meat of a lean weak camel which is kept on the top of a mountain which is neither easy to climb, nor is the meat fat, so that one might put up with the trouble of fetching it.”

The second one said, “I shall not relate my husband’s news, for I fear that I may not be able to finish his story, for if I describe him, I will mention all his defects and bad traits.”

The third one said, “My husband is a tall man; if I describe him (and he hears of that) he will divorce me, and if I keep quiet, he will neither divorce me nor treat me as a wife.”

The fourth one said, “My husband is a moderate person like the night of Tihama which is neither hot nor cold. I am neither afraid of him, nor am I discontented with him.”

The fifth one said, “My husband, when entering (the house) is a leopard, and when going out, is a lion. He does not ask about whatever is in the house.”

The sixth one said, “If my husband eats. he eats too much (leaving the dishes empty), and if he drinks he leaves nothing, and if he sleeps he sleeps alone (away from me) covered in garments and does not stretch his hands here and there so as to know how I fare (get along).”

The seventh one said, “My husband is a wrong-doer or weak and foolish. All the defects are present in him. He may injure your head or your body or may do both.”

The eighth one said, “My husband is soft to touch like a rabbit and smells like a Zarnab (a kind of good smelling grass).”

The ninth one said, “My husband is a tall generous man wearing a long strap for carrying his sword. His ashes are abundant and his house is near to the people who would easily consult him.”

The tenth one said, “My husband is Malik, and what is Malik? Malik is greater than whatever I say about him. (He is beyond and above all praises which can come to my mind). Most of his camels are kept at home (ready to be slaughtered for the guests) and only a few are taken to the pastures. When the camels hear the sound of the lute (or the tambourine) they realize that they are going to be slaughtered for the guests.”

The eleventh one said, “My husband is Abu Zar and what is Abu Zara (i.e., what should I say about him)? He has given me many ornaments and my ears are heavily loaded with them and my arms have become fat (i.e., I have become fat). And he has pleased me, and I have become so happy that I feel proud of myself. He found me with my family who were mere owners of sheep and living in poverty, and brought me to a respected family having horses and camels and threshing and purifying grain . Whatever I say, he does not rebuke or insult me. When I sleep, I sleep till late in the morning, and when I drink water (or milk), I drink my fill. The mother of Abu Zara and what may one say in praise of the mother of Abu Zara’? Her saddle bags were always full of provision and her house was spacious. As for the son of Abu Zar, what may one say of the son of Abu Zar? His bed is as narrow as an unsheathed sword and an arm of a kid (of four months) satisfies his hunger. As for the daughter of Abu Zar, she is obedient to her father and to her mother. She has a fat well-built body and that arouses the jealousy of her husband’s other wife. As for the (maid) slave girl of Abu Zar, what may one say of the (maid) slavegirl of Abu Zar? She does not uncover our secrets but keeps them, and does not waste our provisions and does not leave the rubbish scattered everywhere in our house.”

The eleventh lady added, “One day it so happened that Abu Zar went out at the time when the milk was being milked from the animals, and he saw a woman who had two sons like two leopards playing with her two breasts. (On seeing her) he divorced me and married her. Thereafter I married a noble man who used to ride a fast tireless horse and keep a spear in his hand. He gave me many things, and also a pair of every kind of livestock and said, ‘Eat (of this), O Um Zar, and give provision to your relatives.” She added, “Yet, all those things which my second husband gave me could not fill the smallest utensil of Abu Zar’s.” ‘Aisha then said: Allah’s Apostle said to me, “I am to you as Abu Zar was to his wife Um Zara.” [Al-Bukhari (5189), Muslim(244)]

To be continued....please stay tuned :)

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Assalam aleykum everyone,

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We are currently at 22,600/= with the fundraising. Please let's all join hands and assist her with whatever small we can afford. Every coin goes a long way.

To contribute Mpesa: 0700892829

Kindly do share this message and remember her in your duas.

May Allah bless you all and easen all your battles. Ameen.

THOUGHTS OF TERROR

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When I was studying journalism, I really looked up to John Allan Namu and Mohammed Ali for the investigative journalism they were doing. Their work was commendable! I think it is because I have a drive for solving mysteries, a keen eye for details and finding out the truth. But then I am also an anxious-wreck, and that's just the most paradoxical combination ever. The time I realize how right I was to not pursue that adrenaline thrill is when terrorist attacks happen. I panic. People get sad. People get angry. People get frustrated. People get killed. I panic. Now I remember when the West gate attack happened, one of my classmates joked about how i'd die without being shot if I ever were in a terrorist attack. Die because of the horror rather than any other kind of harm. Maybe get a cardiac arrest then boom! I'm gone (God forbid). Now imagine if I were covering such a horrible event, I would probably end up being the journalist -not the victim-who ended up with PTSD (Post-traumatic Stress Disorder). How ironic would that be? Going to a therapist all sad and petrified and she asks me gently, 'where exactly were you when the incident happened?'

'Oh me? I wasn't inside the building. I was in the neighbourhood covering the story.'

'Did you get hurt?'

'No.'

'Did you get to see any of the terrorists?'

'No.'

'Did you know anyone who was inside?'

'Ummm...no?'

She stops scribbling, tilts her head and looks at me from above her specs.

'Well that doesn't make sense.'

'Exactly my point.'

Then we'd have a moment of awkward silence as she contemplates this journalist, really urged to ask whether she was forced into the profession.

It's always about the thoughts though. Always. Because when a terrorist attack happens, my mind races to picture the people who are in there. I imagine a couple walking in with their travel bags, hand in hand, big smiles on their faces. The lady giggles at something the husband said as they get to the reception to check in. The receptionist asks them how long they'd be in there and they say two weeks. It won't get to the end of the day.

I imagine a lady in an office swirling in her chair, laughing with Grace who is directly opposite her. They are gossiping about their boss who has been coming with the same clothes the entire week.

I imagine a father on the phone, telling his wife he'd be late so she has to pick the children from school. An argument starts up between them. He slams his phone on the desk.

I imagine a young man running up and down the office trying to impress his soon-to-be bosses. If he does well in his internship, they'd hire him permanently. He wanted the job so badly so he runs and pants like a dog. He will get the job at any cost. Even if it means surviving a terrorist attack.

I imagine two high school friends planning a meet-ups for ages of which they always postpone or cancel. Then one fine day they decide, today we will meet. Today we must meet. Then they start discussing the venue. Then they weigh their options. The closest place for both of them but also a nice place to hang out with a very close friend. Finally they choose their place. The place of their death.

I imagine someone having a bad day, being all grumpy and moody. He turns to his mate and says, 'I just can't wait for this day to end'. But the day is just about to begin.

It is strange isn't it? That on a very random day, some people make their way to a trap, having no idea whatsoever that their lives will be changed forever. Busy working, busy talking, enjoying their meals as terrorists are seated somewhere watching them and pitying these poor people who don't know what's about to go down on them. But these terrorists...how do they choose venues? How do they choose the dates? How do they just decide that today, the angel of death will have a party. Do they have any remorse in them? Is there any one of them who is a bit hesitant and says 'maybe we don't have to kill them. We could just frighten them.' And then the colleague asks, 'Are you chickening out?' Is there any part of the planning where they think of cancelling or maybe it dawns on them that it isn't worth it? Do they ever watch the targeted place and see a pregnant woman with a young boy walking through the gates and they hesitate a bit? Or see a man carrying a bag of pampers and think 'that's probably a good father he doesn't deserve to die'? Don't tell me they are just cold blooded murderers with no emotion at all. Everyone has something that causes a pinch in the heart. Even if it something very tiny that would trigger their emotions and maybe, just maybe make them or just one of them think twice. Or maybe that's all they are; cold blooded murderers with no affection or compassion whatsoever. Because how else do they go on a shooting spree on very random, normal people?

I remember an Iftar event that I attended some years back and I happened to sit with a lady who was a victim at the Garissa university attack. Well I didn't know this until a riot started right outside where the iftar was taking place. I could see how uneasy she got. Of course everyone was restless but she was terrified. And then she told me that she was at the university when the attack happened and somehow she survived. By then, quite some months had passed after the attack, but there she was, re-living the nightmare. I can't imagine how disturbing and horrifying it is for anyone who has experienced such incidents. It is true some heal and move on, but some will forever be looking behind them whenever they walk. Put three locks on their doors. Avoid going outside unless necessary. Avoid popular places. Avoid public places entirely. Never take taxis or ubers. And it is so so sad how a piece of someone's life and peace of mind will forever be gone.

What's more sad is when innocent Muslims and Somalis have to pay the price of others' wrongdoings. The issue of Islamophobia has been going on for quite a while now and just when we think we are making progress in killing the stereotype, terrorists surprise with another heart-breaking event. It is so unfair that other people have to continue to prove their innocence and justify their existence as if they are 'natural criminals'.

Sincere condolences to all those who lost their loved ones (May their souls rest in peace), and praying a quick recovery to all those who were injured during the recent Riverside attack in Nairobi, Kenya. We shouldn't forget to thank and pray for all those who helped in any way during the attack; the police, the ambulance personell, Red cross, blood donors and all other unnamed heroes who assisted in any way. Indeed it is only God who can repay them for their bravery and courage.

May God protect our country and our people. May God turn away any human being with evil intentions for us or our people. May we all stay safe. Ameen.

HEAR IT FROM THE CRY BABY

Last year, I had the ugliest phone conversation with an older workmate. Well, that's just a few months ago actually. I think its the ugliest I've ever had with anyone really. Coz I was screaming. When I scream then just know I've totally lost it. And I am not easy to lose control of my temper. I could take all your crap forever but when I scream then run. Run I am telling you because the world is about to collapse on you :D  

(There's a moral to be learnt from the story but to give context I have to rewind a bit. So keep reading please?)

It was actually a very petty issue but I had taken enough crap already from this lady because she is older and I respected her. But then on this fine evening, I exploded. Second thing, I never ever hang up on anyone but with this human being, I did, in the middle of her rumbling. My hands were shaky. My voice was shaky. Hell, my entire body was shaken up. I was crying and having a panic attack for those who know what that is. My mother, brother and sister were right at the door to my room staring at me wondering what had just happened. I was really tired.

Anyway, to cut the long story short, for the next several days, whenever i'd hear my phone ring, my heart would skip a beat. Jokes aside. This is literal. My phone would ring and I would just stare at the phone for a few minutes contemplating whether to pick it up. Even when it was my friends, I would just stare. I would hesitate and sometimes even let it ring until it stopped on its own then send them a text afterwards. When it was a new number, I would be even more nervous. Taking an entire moment, hoping they would hang up before I pick. My workmate had called me with a new number so that resulted to the higher skepticism. For a while it didn't strike me why. I have always hated phone calls (hint to all those who call me :p ) so it was no shocker that I didn't want to pick. But this was different. This wasn't just about me being uncomfortable to phone calls and then it dawned on me. It was about the lady screaming on the phone. My subconscious was still stuck in that conversation. It was me shouting at the top of my voice. I hated that image and it had stuck in my head.

I swear when a new number called, I would say bismillah bismillah bismillah several times before picking regardless of who the caller was (Okay this sounds funny now :D ) That's how deeply affected I was. Now calm your horses y'all life coaches. I've heard it all my life, 'Don't allow people's words crash you.' 'Don't be weak'. 'Don't take things to heart'. But well guess what? Some of us weren't exactly wired as you are. Take it to be weakness or being afraid or whichever way you decide to interpret it, but my profile reads 'voice of the voiceless' so here I am, speaking out loudly, ready to receive all the backlash :D

My point is...To be honest, there are places I totally avoid, people I never let my eyes meet theirs, conversations I walk away from, just because at one perfect day, someone out there totally ruined my image of that place, of that person or of that topic. And trust me, it doesn't matter if someone apologizes, that thing will never be the same for me. Ever. And that's just how it is for me. Simply because I don't ever want to go to a beautiful place to be happy and then poof! just like that, my super active mind will take me down the memory lane and remind me 'do you remember this is the place this and this happened?' I know many people don't get it but for some of us, the pain runs way way deeper to the core. It is not easy to dismiss it or bury it, so we live with it. (Of course this depends with the magnitude of the matter in hand. I won't stop going all places coz of some heartless people.)

I know a young teenage girl of about 10/11 years who has teeth that are a bit more outward than they should be and several of her school mates would always tease her about it. Sad to say, the girl stopped smiling. Especially when one of her closest friends once told her in mid-sentence 'Just stop talking. Close your mouth.' I felt that. I really really felt that. Because now she's never going to believe that she has a beautiful smile. She is always serious and even when she laughs, her hands are always covering her mouth. I know about all the self-love talks people preach about. But don't you think it would be easier if people were keener with their words? With their actions? With how they treat other people? Isn't it easier to adopt self love willingly rather than having to fix your self image first?

I didn't want to write about this because my entire life has been about this. Being deeply affected by how people treated me and everyone would still point out how I should just forget or not take things seriously or whatever. I remember some even making jokes about it like 'hey don't tease her. She could just start crying.' and they'd just laugh about it :D Geez some people though :D They thought they were being funny by saying that, let's all laugh at their sweet, naive souls :D

Okay fine. Its a weakness I should work on but what about these other people. What about all these other people that become the reason we avoid places or get nervous for phone conversations. Who talks to these people? Who tells them that they are crashing people's spirits? Who corrects them?

I think we as human beings really take for granted what kind of effect we have on other people. So on behalf of all my fellow cry babies (y'all can thank me later), I have today revealed what most of us never speak out loud.  Be kind y'all. The world is cold enough. Let us have more compassionate, empathetic people rather than cruel, egocentric, narcissistic jerks.

#RightsForTheCryBabies :D  #KindnessFirst 

P.S. If I wasn't picking your calls, count this as the official apology. Please text next time :)

IF 2018 WAS A MOVIE

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Fun Fact: I have this addictive habit of watching extremely thrilling/horror movies then spending the entire night scaring myself and going to the washroom every hour because my bladder can't hold all the fear within. Why I torture myself? Beats me. But I convince myself that that is how I face my fears. Hero much? You bet. 2018 was a horror movie. I was at my very worst. Hit rock bottom and was scared of my own self more than anything else in this life. Being your own enemy is one thing but knowing you are your own enemy is something else. The fight between your self and mind is endless. If 2018 was a movie, it would be 'Bird Box' for me. That was 2018's best thriller and horror movie. 2018 was MY bird box. I was blindly stumbling my way through the days for survival, trying to not look directly into the eyes of my monster; my own self-sabotaging being. I just wanted to get to the end of it. But you know what? I love thrill. I am a total thrill freak. So when I say it was the roughest year for me, I also mean it was the most intense, challenging year. Trying to see the silver lining here y'all :D

Being an extremely anxious person makes me very impatient in everything. I don't give myself adequate time for anything. Not for healing, not for love, not for my dreams either. I have this clock that keeps tik-toking in my head; always reminding me how I'm running out of time. For what you ask? I have no idea. This is where the Marshmallow test comes in.

The Marshmallow study is a famous social-science test among educators and psychologists because it is something we learn about. The study itself is about delayed gratification done in the 1960's by a Stanford professor. So the experiment was that a child is taken into a room that has a marshmallow on the table. The experimenter then tells the child that they are leaving the room and that if they wait until the experimenter comes back without eating the marshmallow, then they will get another one. So the choice was simple: one marshmallow right now or two marshmallows later.

The experimenters believed that the study was a measure of future success of the children participants. So the child is then left in the room alone with the marshmallow. Now the hardest part is that there is no distraction. Its just the child staring at the marshmallow. Obviously some kids ate it right way, some hesitated right away before giving in to the temptation and others were patient enough to wait for the other one so they get two. The experimenters followed up on the progress of the children even decades later and found that the children who were willing to delay gratification and waited to receive the second marshmallow ended up successful in every aspect of life. In short, the study proved that the ability to delay gratification was critical for success in life. Mind-blowing right? (You can google more on the Marshmallow study).

So how does this relate to my 2018?

One of the hardest things I've ever had to do as a person struggling with anxiety, is to trust the process; believe in the power of delayed gratification. I took up a job that you only see the fruits of your hard work more than six months later and I failed at different writing opportunities I looked forward to among other things. My writing journey has been long with slow baby steps. And don't get me wrong, I appreciate my baby steps. I really do. In fact I do treat myself whenever I achieve one of tiny goals. But then there's the self-sabotaging anxious self that wants you to see how you'll never make it to across the river (Y'all should watch 'Bird Box' if you haven't. Oh! and the memes are so lit! :D Memes are the best part of anything yo). So 2018 is the year my patience was tested the most. But I keep reminding myself of the greater reward. Of the best to come. Of the two Marshmallows at the end of the day. I keep reminding myself that my baby steps will someday add up to something. I believe it will in shaa Allah but for now, it is an endless war with my mind that wants the easy, shortcut and immediate reward of one Marshmallow. But you know what? I want two Marshmallows. Hell I want a hundred of them. So I'll wait. I'll wait to see what's on the other side of the river. I'll wait because I have faith that Allah (S.W.) is with me. If I don't make it to other side, I know I'll have died trying and that counts. It means a lot.

Don't get me wrong. 2018 was not entirely a black cloud on my head. I have my family with me and I realize that's a big blessing every.single.day. alhamdulilah. My anxious self traveled on a plane for the first time in my life (a very panicky story for another day :D ) Good things did happen alhamdulilah but above all, it was a challenging year. And I hope I can learn from it.

Hey where are my anxious fellow humans? Let's wait for the basket full of Marshmallows okay? We got this. I know we can. I know we do :)

Better days to come. Ameen.

***

14 TIPS FOR ASPIRING WRITERS

God knows I'm not an expert to be writing this. Not even close. I'm not Stephen King or Khaled Hosseini or Paulo Coelho or Chimamanda or any of these madly talented writers. Did I mention J.K. Rowling? But I have stumbled my way for so long in my writing journey like a drunkard, stepping on grammar thorns and hitting on plot poles. So yeah, I've done a lot of mistakes and I've learnt a lot from different writing gurus and fellows. They say, you learn best from a person who has come face to face, touched and embraced the failure wholly (of course I embraced it then made my lemonade out of it). I think I can share with fellow aspiring writers some tips that will help as you start/continue with your writing career.

1. WRITE:

The only way to become a great writer is by LITERALLY writing. There are no short cuts to this. Reading ten or even a hundred books on how to write won't make you any better writer if you don't take that pen and start scribbling. Writing guides will of course be really helpful in showing you the direction, but the rest is entirely upon you. Write that story you've always wanted to write. Write that very badly written poem. However much awful your piece will be, it will still be better than nothing at all. After writing it, don't immediately throw it away. Keep it safe for some hours or days, then revisit it and go through it again. You might have some new ideas on how to improve your piece.

2. WRITING IS RE-WRITING:

Ask any writer/poet in the world, even the most famous one, they'll tell you the same thing; writing is re-writing. You can't have perfection from the word go. You can't write one story and be frustrated that it isn't how you want it to be. Calm down mate, this thing needs patience here. As we say here in Mombasa, 'hii kitu haitaki hasira' ama vipi? Every beautiful thing takes some time to be fully formed or functional or complete. So write, re-read it, make changes. Give it a break, go through it again. Add new ideas. Like that until you are finally satisfied with what you have in hand. If you're a perfectionist, the process might make you crazy so it would be nice if you seek assistance from someone else that you trust, which brings me to my third point.

3. DON'T BE SHY TO SEEK HELP:

However rowdy and unappealing your story seems, don't be shy to send it to someone you trust. NOTE, I said someone you trust i.e. they have good judgement in what a good story looks like, they have good insights and if they are grammar nazis that's even better. (Grammar Nazi definition by Urban dictionary: One who uses refined vocabulary, correct grammar, constantly finds themselves correcting grammar and spelling (in forums, chatrooms, tumblr, YouTube, etc.) These people will ruthlessly point out all the grammar massacres you committed. Don't take it personally, deep deep down they are good people who wan't the best for you. So don't get annoyed when they show you your mistakes. Most importantly, it should be someone you trust NOT to steal your piece and use it as their own. If you know someone who has experience in writing or an avid reader, the better. They will be the fresh eyes you need and can honestly tell you their opinions about your writing. Also, don't send it to nice people who'll always tell you 'It's good.' Go for the brutally honest ones who will bluntly tell you what is wrong or right about your writing. You need this, trust me, you do. So take heart and swallow the bitter pill for now.

4. ACCEPT POSITIVE CRITICISM POSITIVELY:

Now there's criticism that is good and healthy. The person correcting you isn't trying to crash your dreams or ruin your self-confidence. They are just trying to show you how to be a better writer (and this applies to all matters of life as well). They will point out your mistakes and show you how to be better (or not) either way, they are trying to help. Then we have the negative criticism whereby the person is continuously trying to show you how useless you are or untalented. In short, they are just the villains in your story. Make sure to accept only the positive criticism. Remember that the only way for you to grow is to actually learn from your mistakes. And for someone to show you your mistakes they have to brutally honest with you WITHOUT crashing your self-esteem. So long as someone means well, don't feel bad. Accept the criticism and learn from the mistakes to do better next time. And no, this shouldn't be an excuse for you to quit writing. As for those who criticize you in a negative way, avoid sending your work to them. If you can't keep your work away from them maybe because they see it on your social media pages, learn to ignore them without allowing their comments affect you. We all have received these kind of criticisms, so you're not alone. Stop with the pity-partying and continue writing!

5. EXPERIMENT AND GET OUT OF YOUR COMFORT ZONE:

Just because you write poetry doesn't mean you can't writing something else. Plus, you'll never know if you can do something else if you haven't tried it. I for one, never thought I could write in present continuous or in second person until I tried it. I realized I loved it more than writing in past tense or first/third person. So explore, get out of your comfort zone and try writing new things. You could be surprised how you could enjoy or be better in something totally different than what you do now. If you only write travel blogs, take some time to write a fiction piece someday or do a different language blog. Play around with your talent cards until you finally discover what you really love and are comfortable writing about, then embrace that fully.

6. READ:

Honestly, I am a disgrace to the writing community, and that's because I am not an avid reader. I do read, but not to the extent one would expect from a writer. I source out my inspiration from different things and people, most writers seek it from books (thus making me a disgrace :D ) But I've made this my personal challenge, to push myself to read as much as I can. Reading opens up your mind to new ideas, new places, new characters and new experiences. We learn from our fellow writers like that and we grow from there. So make it your personal challenge too to read as often as you can and let that inspire you to write more and better.

7. BE AUTHENTIC:

You need to use your own voice. You need to echo out your own dreams, fears, aspirations, struggles, personality and let it reflect in what you write. Be authentic and don't copy someone's style. Create your own style, something that you will be remembered for. Be the master of the style you choose. Sometimes your voice could be your humor or your choice of words, or the way you unfold your story. It would be ridiculous if you try to copy J.K. Rowling's style in Harry Potter to write your own Wizardry book, right? I thought so too. So be yourself, even in your writing. Especially in your writing.

There are several articles and videos talking about voices, how to find and develop your voice in writing so just search for them on google and knock yourself out. However, here is an example of what other writers talked about voice:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3-AG6yzJMIE

8. KNOW THE DIFFERENCE:

There are different kinds of writing out there and you need to know about them. This is important because for example, the rules that are there for fiction writing are very different from non-fiction or even poetry. There are similarities of course, but you still need to be aware of what is what before you dive deep into writing. We are on the 21st Century people, what better way to use the free wifi and google than to learn these things? If you google kinds or types of writing right now you'd find MANY articles and videos on the same. Help yourself; do yourself a favour and learn the differences of these writings.

9. HAVE SELF-DISCIPLINE & DO NOT GIVE UP:

This is very very important. Writing is one of those things one can easily push under the bed. It seems the easiest thing to let go of once someone is overwhelmed with their life. Its kind of the same thing with painting or any other kind of art. And I see this all the time. People keep saying, 'I used to write by the way' and when you ask what happened the answer is almost the same always; 'Life happened.' And when life happens to someone, writing is the first thing we give up on because we think 'I can live without it' (for those who don't pay their bills with writing). Remember when we said, beautiful things take time? All these novels and stories we obsess about, how long do you think it took the writer to write the entire book until it got to you? Many months and sometimes, MANY years. So be patient and keep trying. Don't say 'what's the point if it doesn't pay my bills right now?' The point is, you are leaving footsteps behind you. A legacy. You are inspiring people with your stories, and it doesn't matter if the number of people reading your work are only five. If you are able to create positive change or influence just one person to be better at something or in their lives, that's a great achievement for anyone. So don't underestimate your work and write as often as possible. At least every day. Okay, maybe that's a lot for you. At least a week? Yes, a week is good enough. At whatever cost, push yourself to write as per your schedule (even if it means skipping an hour of sleeping. I mean, we skip sleep to chat. We can do that for writing too right?)

10. SHARE YOUR WORK:

If you leave your stories inside your drawers, they will just get dust and insects will come nibble your masterpieces away. Is that what you want for your masterpiece? Being murdered by tiny insects? Being consumed by a tsunami of dust? Come on. Your voice deserves a place out there. There is a space for your pieces to occupy in this vast world.

Point is, if you don't let your work out there, you will never know how good and talented you are. You will never know if your stories can emotionally break someone into tears just because of its intensity. You can never know if someone thinks the same way as you do. For you to grow as a writer, take the risk and share the work. Don't be afraid of 'not being good enough.' No one started off being good enough already. They too had to struggle. So share you work; on all kinds of social media, on blogs, in magazines...anywhere you can.

Blogs and websites are great platforms to share you work. If you are just starting of and still unsure on what kind of writing to take up or how often you'd write, you can start off with the free blogs from wordpress or blogspot accounts. If you have a friend or relative with computer/IT knowledge, ask for their help in creating and designing your blog. Again, the internet is right there at our service. You could create your own blog by learning how to do it via google. For example, you could search 'create a free wordpress blog' and follow the prompts as directed. Nonetheless, the IT friend can be great help.

Here's a link to a video that might help: https://winningwp.com/how-to-make-a-free-blog-wordpress-com/

11. MAKE CONTRACTS. EVERY.SINGLE.TIME

I learnt this the hard way, so hear it from me. Do not, and I mean, DO NOT EVER, go for a writing gig without making a contract. It doesn't matter if the person is a relative, a very good friend or the work is just 500 words. Make a contract! Most artists don't know what their rights are and thus, many people end up taking advantage or just disappearing with your work or payment. Rather you protect yourself than regret later. Even if it is someone you know very well just say it, 'No offence but I need a contract for all that we've agreed on'. And make sure that indeed, all you agreed on is in the contract and SIGNED by both of you. At least you know if they go against you, you have proof to demand your payment or rights from them. Thank me later!

12. DO NOT COMPARE YOURSELF:

Just like with everything else in life, we have those who are ahead than others. You probably know of writers who write everyday, maybe 2000 words every morning or so...DO NOT COMPARE YOURSELF WITH THEM. Everyone has their own pace with things, so don't beat yourself for it. Do what you can and do it within your own pace and at your best ability. Don't let people's achievements crash you, instead let it be a challenge. Also, don't force yourself to be like someone else just because 'they've made it'. Remember we talked about having your own voice yeah? So do that. Be self-disciplined, write as much as you possibly can and grow from there.

13. DON'T BE SHY TO AIM FOR THE MONEY

Look, we all are striving and hustling hard to make ends meet. So don't be apologetic if you are writing simply to earn money or make a career out of it. Don't be shy or guilty about it. Do your best and achieve your goals yo. Be unstoppable and buy that classy car.

14. FINALLY

I had no point for number 14 but because I am a perfectionist and ending my post with an odd number itches my gut, here is number 14 :) All the best in your writing journey and please, please don't sit or sleep or eat (if there's anything like that) on your talent.

I hope these will be helpful as you take on your writing journey. Kindly share!! Thank you!

SILENCE

Silence. Silence is over-rated. Silence is golden, but not so golden. I know silence because I have mastered it. My current read is ‘Silence is my mother tongue’ by Sulaiman Addonia and the last time I talked to anyone is months ago.

As I hit rock bottom and eventually made it my permanent home, silence is the only way to speak. Silence until you hear your own fading heartbeat. Silence until your legs warm up to the extremely cold water as you continue drowning. Silence until it becomes sharp and loud, your body disappearing into the blueness. That’s how much I relate to silence. That’s how much I am the silence.

Staring at my mirror, I touch the strings of my grey, white hair. Wrinkles staring back at me. Cheeks flabby like inflated balloons. How did I get old too fast to notice? If I died in this empty house or went missing right now, no one will notice immediately. The first person will notice a week later at least. In the midst of her shuffling between her busy schedules, it will strike her. Silence is not always good. She will remember. In the midst of her jolliness, she will remember me the way you remember that you left a child all alone at home or when you lose a toddler in a busy supermarket. Sudden. Almost in a panic. God knows she cares.

The second one will notice roughly a month later. No blame whatsoever because that’s how we roll.

My son would be the last one to realize. News would get to him as the stranger he’s become.

I lie down on my bed, hands stretched apart wondering how to do this the right way. He’s leaving the house. He wants to start a new life in a new city with some of his friends. He had said it so casually like I was but a nanny to him. How does one live alone after their entire lives revolved around one person and they left? How does a fifty five year old woman restart her life afresh? How do I break the habit of worrying about his asthma whenever the weather gets too cold? Or cook food just for one? How do I be myself without him?

He has grown now. He wants to go after his dreams. Build an empire of his own. Make new friends. Have a new family. But what does that leave me with?

I know how this works okay. I know. First comes in the distance. Then the busy schedules and less conversations. Then less visits home. Then the small talk, hurried phone calls. Then silence.

I know how this works because that is how it went down with everyone else. He was the only one left and that too, I am losing now.

I don’t want to be the selfish kind of mother. I don’t want to cage him. I don’t want to tighten my grip on him way too much until he slips away in between my fingers. He already slipped though. But how do I let go of him without losing him entirely? Is that even possible? Fathomable?

How do I start self-discovery at this age and time? How do I ask myself what is really my favourite meal after his, became mine? How do I identify what I love about life when I see a drone flying past and I smile because I love what he loves? Does that even make sense?

I don’t have friends. Okay, I have two out-of-this-world friends who have many other friends. That makes me very dismissible. Very much replaceable. I don’t have friends because I thought being a dedicated mother would cover it all. Because his friends became my friends and my sons too. Because I could always expect to walk into the house and see him with a group of them fighting over food. I didn’t prepare for this. No one prepared a single, obsessive mother of the day she will have to let go of not just her son, but her life as well. Because now, how do we untwine all that we have? Our entire lives? Emotions, Books, Thoughts, the pictures in the album, moments. How do we share them between us like, ‘This is mine, this is yours.’ How do I even know what was really mine for my own sake and what was mine because he was in it?

Listen to the silence in my room. In my house. In my big, empty house. It reminds me of my own soul. Lost within all the familiarity.

How do I love without being the enemy? How do I respect his decision of moving on without crying, without it eating me up like wasted wood on fire? How do I deal with nostalgia; the literally painful pangs of missing him without going insane? How do I become the good, understanding and supportive mother without losing my essence? The very thing I was living up for?

Apparently this is how life is. Everyone eventually leaves. Whether it is by travelling, going after dreams, changed priorities, death, unresolved matters, masks falling off…whatever it is, they eventually leave. How then can I hope for love as intense as my own from anyone? At this age and time? How then do I expect to ever get in return what I give out without holding anything back?

If I died or went missing, barely anyone would notice. And now, I am losing the only beautiful thing in my life. Tell me, tell me…how do I love and let go without losing him entirely?

SILENCE.

YOU HAVE DONE IT AGAIN

You have done it again. You have, in your stubborn nature, done it again. Unbelievable! Annoyingly unbelievable. But for your mother, it isn’t exactly unbelievable. All she ever said when she knew what you’ve done was, ‘What is new...’ Even so, her voice was heavy and almost cold when you told her of your crisis. You are her son after all; even when she knew how shady and irresponsible you are, she still hoped and prayed for you to change and settle down.

The last time it happened, it was three years back, when you started going after the mother of your ex fiancée. Hell broke loose. Insults were thrown. Your mother was abused right on her face. About how she hadn’t raised you well. How she had horribly failed as a mother. There were blows thrown on your face by your fiancée. Tears. A lot of tears. And of course shouting. The neighbours were all there; whispering, staring and shaking heads. A disgrace. You've always been a disgrace to your mother, your family and community.

You tried to protect your mother. Tried to stop both mother and daughter from dragging your mother in the mud. But your mother had always been dragged into your mud and she always cleaned it up. Maybe that was her mistake. Maybe her biggest mistake was that she hoped her son will change and that it was just the hot-youth hormones within you burning you into ashes. This too shall pass, she convinced herself. He will grow up soon. So she took it all in; the insults, the stares and being the black sheep of the family.

Everyone said it was because she is a single mother. She needed a man and you needed a father to put you in your right place. That she was weak-hearted towards you. You are her only son and her only child anyway. People said a lot of things. But you knew better. You know better. You know how your mother gave you endless pep-talks about respecting women. How she warned you not to be what your father was to her. You know how your mother struggled to bring food to the table. You know how she taught you about God. About empathy and compassion. You, better than anyone else, know how she would cry alone silently and the only thing you’d hear from the next room is her frequent sniffs. You know how she’d wake up with eyes swollen and red like ripe tomatoes, laughing nervously and blaming her allergies for it. You know. You know.

Mother and daughter broke your mother’s heart into pieces just like you had broken their relationship; their bond, their home. Who gets in between a mother and daughter anyway?

Your mother cried her heart off and begged for death. She begged for a calamity. She begged for cancer and a fire to burn her down into nothingness. She begged for the angel of death to appear. She begged. She begged a lot. That was when you promised that you’d change. You promised never to let her down again. You promised her to be a better person; a better man.

Years went by and your mother stayed by your side. Praying for you. Guiding you. Loving you. For a moment you settled. For a moment, there weren’t any scandals happening. You just stayed low key. You travelled to the Middle East to start afresh. For a moment, it was quiet. Your mother held her breath; always scared on a phone call that would inform of her of your other evil-doing or worse. But for a moment, nothing happened. For a moment, she believed you had changed and settled.

Then came the late night phone call. It was you once again, calling from the Saudi cell. You have been arrested for impregnating a minor. A 16 year old. Your mother’s silence on the other side of the phone was too loud you could hear her cry and touch her anguish. She barely said before she ended the call.

You are here now. Holding the cell bars with both your hands. Looking outside as the police officers pace back and forth as they speak in Arabic. Big macho men hovering around you. Pee stench all over the place. Guilt is chewing on your heart like sugarcane, only your heart is not as sweet. Maybe just bitter. You want your mother to speak to you. To say it’s going to be okay as she’d always done. You want her to not be angry and disappointed with you. You want to cry on her laps and ask for forgiveness. You want to tell her you deserve it; to rot in this cell in a foreign country or be beaten up to death. You want to tell her she deserves better because she is the better human being. You have a lot to tell her, but this time she wouldn’t listen. This time, she has disowned you. This time, she won’t clean your mess.

Here you are; burning inside and trapped outside.

You have done it again.