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Lubnah Abdulhalim


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At the moment the whole world is talking about Aleppo, arranging vigil events, donating, doing sincere prayers and all this just makes me fall in love ❤

So this is our week, Mombasa folks. On this thursday (tomorrow) 3 p.m. there will be prayers at Light house mosque. There will be a donation box at the event where people can donate for Aleppo folks. If you are wondering how the money will get to the white helmets then this is how:
One of the organizers of the ‘vigil for aleppo’ event is a member of the foreigner’s students of Turkey. The group is collecting funds to buy medical equipment, blankets, medicines, food, clothes and other necessities. This is the first time we are doing such a wonderful initiative in Mombasa, so please be available when history is being made. Come and connect to the world. Come and be inspired. Come and have your faith in humanity be restored ?

For those who can’t attend but wish to donate you can mpesa me at 0704 731 560: Lubnah. Please I can only accept donations until tomorrow around 2:30 before the event starts in shaa Allah. I already have 15k donated…please bring in more. Let us make a difference and in shaa Allah our rewards will be from God ?

Talking of making a difference, we have someone else who desperately needs our help. A brother of ours was diagnosed with cancer of the oesophagus in early December.

He requires Kshs.203,768 to undergo chemotherapy and radiotherapy at the Nairobi Hospital for five weeks.

We are appealing for your help as this matter needs to be attended to urgently. We will greatly appreciate on behalf of the family, In Shaa Allah.

You can make your contribution through MPESA- 0790488333 Amina Khamis.

We all know how deadly cancer is and I can’t insist enough how much the family needs us right now. Compared to the Aleppo appeal, his funding is still far behind and we all know how doctors won’t treat him unless he is paying meanwhile. Charity starts at home people. Let’s help him with the little much we can offer.


These are his medical records ?

Please note that I am only taking donations for Aleppo while Amina khamis mentioned above is receiving for the patient. We can all make it possible. A little here a little there and in shaa Allah we will have helped save some people’s lives. Ameen.

I know some would be confused on which to donate for. My idea is you can divide the money and get rewards for both. If your have little money then you can attend the prayers for Aleppo and donate the money to the patient. But that is just my idea to make you participate in both, you can always do what you wish most ?

Do remember however small your charity is, it makes a difference. Your small and my small makes it big. So let’s start M-pesaring ?

God bless you abundantly and grant you well. Ameen. Thanks in advance!!

Photo Courtesy: Butterfly.4.Weddings (http://www.imgrum.net/)

There are 8 kinds of women you almost never miss in a Swahili/Mombasa wedding:

1. The epitome of beauty: The most beautiful lady in the room. You would almost confuse her to be the bride. She is gorgeous and she knows it. Make-up done perfectly with a Cinderella gown that makes her the princess of the night. She walks gracefully, head held high, appears in the dance floor, interact and doesn’t miss out in the photos.

2. Selfieeee: You will never miss a selfie freak. Always taking photos from the moment they step at the hall door, to when they are walking, seated, dancing, eating, all poses you can think off. She could have 50 photos of just a single evening.

3. Make-up gone soo wrong: The kind of lady who makes you question whether you are too ignorant about make-up or she really looks the way you see her. You question her brain, her mirror, her friends, her family, the entire humanity who walked right by her and never said a word. Not even, “honey, I think some water on your face will do you good.”?!!

4. Always the dancer: She is the great dancer. She knows her moves well and all songs can be danced even the one you would just sit and have your hand hold your chin? Yeah, that song too. She can dance it. So of course, you never miss her being in the dance floor.

5. Fashion police: The keen eyes scrutinizing what everyone is wearing, what colour, which jewelry, what they should have done differently and what would match best with what. Plus they never miss someone to discuss the fashion NO-NO’s with at the wedding.

6. Family-tree narrator: This is the historian. “See the lady in blue? she is the daughter of the woman in green. The woman in green is the step-cousin to your late mother. And your late mother had a great step-grandmother; she is the old lady talking to the young lady. The young lady is your step aunt” bla bla bla… They know most people in the wedding. They can connect the dots of family lineage back to your ancestors.

7. God! I_AM_BORED woman: She is mostly at the event because she has no choice. She is just staring at people, rarely interacting at all, appreciates the food being served, has a faint smile on her face and the moment the bride sits on the stage, she is gone!

8.The psycho kind of writer ME:The moment she takes a seat, she starts eating. She wants to get done with it already and forget about food. Next she is in pauses between chronic texting syndrome and staring at people silently like a serial killer and psychopath studying her victims. She looks at people like story materials and study expressions, impressions, abbreviations you name it 😀 She stares at the corner of the eyes of the bride trying to find tears, study body language and think of all the story ideas she can get from one event. There is no selfie taken at all because she is the same way you’d see her on the street buying tomatoes. She can’t interact much because hey! ‘I am just from greeting someone across the hall. I can’t dare do that again. Too much attention.’ She is always looking around just in case she sees a familiar face or an old friend. Not that she will walk to go say hi, rather she’ll just wave and plaster a big smile like, ‘if only you were closer i’d give you a hug.’ You know, Mombasa weddings are partly re-unions, everyone knows everyone sorta thing. She looks confused and lost. All people are going to take photos with the bride she is still seated at the far end row alone with empty seats beside and around her. She is trying to dissect the song lines and read between the lines and sometimes question the sanity of the singers with very cheesy lines. She waits until the bride is walking right beside her so that she can hug her and congratulate her. Then hurrah! ‘I think I just got something to write about from this.’ 😀 Okay I know I am bizarre and weird but at least you got something to read today! 😉 Have a blessed weekend lovely people 😀

Photo Courtesy: http://cbsnews2.cbsistatic.com/

WARNING: THIS ARTICLE CONTAINS VERY DISTURBING CONTENT

For those who know me well enough, they’d tell you you’d rarely see me in the middle of a crowd. It makes my head spin. In any event or occasion i’d either be within the two/three rows and most probably at the side-end of the line. It is always easier to get away you know. The nearer to the door, the better. So yesterday I was at the Iqra Youth foundation seminar and they had us to follow the lines. I ended up right at the middle of the third line. So before the event started, we had almost two hours. There were some nasheeds being played. One of the songs was one of the songs my late Mama two loved. Immediately upon hearing it, I could feel her face right in front of me. The memories, the laughter, her jokes…I started crying. I thought it would just a be a tear or two but then it almost became like an outburst of a spring. I was nervously and anxiously searching for my handkerchief in my bag with my head bowed so down almost getting buried in the bag. Obviously I didn’t want anyone see me cry. It was too early in the morning for anyone to be seen crying. I could’t find my hanky so I just used my hijab to wipe the over-streaming tears. My younger sister was seated next to me, I could see how deep in thoughts she was. I guessed that she probably was thinking about her too but no, I wasn’t about to let her see me in tears and make her cry too. I am the older sister remember? In that roller coaster of thoughts, my mind replayed all those depressing videos I had seen the previous night of Aleppo. I started crying even more. Here I am crying for losing one important person what about them?! Losing everything all at once; homes, schools, hospitals, families…Seeing your sisters being gang raped right in front of their eyes…God! It made me feel miserable. The helplessness, the burning feeling…God knows how many times I kept my head bowed down in my bag, pretending to still be searching for the hanky. Looking behind after every two minutes to check whether my best friend had arrived to my rescue. My head was spinning, I could hear the laughter around, people busy chattering away, heads bowed down to their phones with no easy exit to the washroom so I stayed put, had a monologue trying to stay calm while taking deep breaths. God knows how many times I’ve wanted to disappear in such situations; be invisible, dissipate totally if possible. That is what helplessness does to us. Makes one angry, stressed, sad, frustrated all at the same time. It makes one question humanity, question God, question so many things…

This is perhaps one of the worst times to live in, one of the worst centuries to exist in. You see the humanity burn away into ashes. You see misery. You see rivers of blood flowing in a river-less town. You see children being tortured. You see women being raped. You witness a lot while you can do NOTHING about it. NOTHING.

But then this isn’t about Aleppo or Syria only. This is not about religion, race or politics. It is about the lives of innocent people. This is about Yemen, Palestine, Burma and many MANY other places around the world. It is about humanity. It is about the universe.

They cry, they scream, they die. They are calling unto us? Where are we?! Where are we in helping them? As much as we keep tweeting, updating, blogging, instagraming about them, we have to REALLY ACTUALLY LITERALLY pray for them. Let us not just say, ‘let us pray for them.’ We need to take action NOW! We need to organize protests. We need to organize tahajjud for prayers for the whole world. We need to go back to Allah because He? He is the only one who can help them.

I am not trying to torture you too with these videos. I hope you can see the importance of your prayers and protests at this moment, to see the blessings in your life that you barely thank God for…to see how much privileged you are. Alhamdulilah ala kul hal.

Take heart people. God is seeing this all. He is watching and He is preparing great reward for all these people. Take heart that God has a greater plan. That He is still in control; always has been, always will be. Let’s all turn towards Him. Let’s complain to Him. Let us beg Him. Let us PRAY PRAY PRAY! Let us pray for the sake of all those who are gone and those still clutching onto the feeble straws 🙁

Ameen thumma ameen! ;(

Photo Courtesy: http://cosmouk.cdnds.net/

The past two days at the first annual Islamic conference were just A.M.A.Z.I.N.G!!! Alhamdulilah; just the kind of things that can make me feel the thrills for the rest of the year 😀 I mean, one sheikh Rishard can make your entire week wonderful so you can imagine having him plus sheikh Kishki plus Al Qahtani plus Abu Hamza plus Ismail plus Abdulghani Bashir plus sheikh Suleiman from different parts of the world, all under the same roof on the same stage! May Allah bless them for all their outstanding lectures and to all the organizers, volunteers and donors who made this event a major success mashallah. It was too exciting I wish I could literally drag everyone to come and learn from them. If you missed it, you REALLY missed out! Lol okay I won’t add any more pepper to the wounds but I can share something I learnt from sheikh Abdulrahman Mansur Al-Qahtani; one the most humorous and coolest sheikhs of our century 😀 Maybe next time we can have both Mufti Menk and Nouman Ali Khan on the same stage and we all know how that conference will rock! Ameen to this 😀

So sheikh Al-Qahtani talked about the promises made by Allah in the qur’an and how Allah is speaking directly to us. So many times we are swept off by life, with it’s tests, with it’s demands, always busy, always in a rush with the worldly affairs and it’s fanciness we forget the most important thing; what brought us into this world.

The Prophet salallaahu ‘alayhi wa aleh wa sallam said that Allah said (in hadith Qudsi): “Myself, Mankind and Jinn are in a great serious state. I create them, then they worship other gods that they make for themselves. I bless them with my bounties, then they thank someone else for what I sent them. My Mercy descends to them while their evil deeds ascend to Me. I endear them with My gifts even though I have no need to any of them while they alienate themselves from Me with their sins even though they are desperate for My help. Whoever returns to Me , I accept him no matter how far he is. And whoever turns away from Me, I approach him and call on him. Whosoever leaves a sin for My sake, I reward him with many gifts and whoever seeks to please Me, I seek to please him. Whoever acknowledges My Will and Power in whatever he does, I make the iron bend for his sake. My dear people are those who are with Me (i.e. whoever would like to be with Me, let him supplicate to Me and remember Me). Whoever thanks Me, I grant him more blessings, whoever obeys Me, I raise him and endeavor him more. Whoever disobeys Me , I keep the doors of My Mercy open for him, if he returns to Me, I bestow him with My Love , since I love those who repent and purify themselves for My Sake. If he does not repent, I still treat him by putting them in hardship to purify him. Whoever favours Me over others, I favour them over others. I reward every single good deed ten times over or seven hundred times over to countless times over. I count every single bad deed as one unless the person repents and asks for My Forgiveness in which case I forgive even that one. I take into account any little good deed and I forgive even major sins. My Mercy supercedes My Anger, My Tolerance supercedes My Blame, My Forgiveness supercedes My Punishment as I am more Merciful with My slaves than a mother with her child.”

Subhanallah, the weight of this hadith qudsi is heavy. So much to question ourselves about. Like how much Allah keeps blessing us, granting us what we want, forgiving us, forgiving us again and again and what do we send back to Him? ‘their evil deeds ascend to Me.’ Yet still He made promises to us; the ungrateful weak humans.

The first promise is: “So remember Me, I will remember You.” Surat Baqarah: verse 152
I am pretty sure we have come across those angry memes on the blue ticks on whatsapp. You are in dire need of help or perhaps just someone to talk to, the ticks have turned blue, the last seen is every past second you check…yet no reply. It is annoying, sometimes heart-breaking. But this is us human-beings. Have you tried Allah? Have you tried talking to Him directly? In your sujood? In your dua? Anywhere anytime??! Do you remember Him at all? We keep saying that communication is a two-way thing then how do we expect Allah to remember any of us when we don’t do the same to Him? Not that He needs us, but because WE NEED HIM! So remember Allah as many times and in many places as possible. Remember Him and He has promised to remember you!

The second promise is: ‘ If you are grateful, I will surely increase you (in favour)’ Surat Ibrahim: verse 7
But how many times do we thank Allah? Sincerely thanking Allah from the bottom of our hearts? For both the good and bad in our lives? He says: ‘when you thank me, I will give you more’. It is a promise. So thank Him. Thank Him for every small and big, Good and bad. And remember; even that the bad you go through is good in disguise. Again, have trust in Allah! 🙂

The third promise: ‘Call unto Me (and) I shall respond to you!’ Surat Ghafir : verse 60.
The thing with Allah is that your messages to Him are delivered spontaneously and so are His replies. You may not know it but Allah has already answered your prayer the moment you make it! Even when you don’t see an answer, His silence is the answer. Sheikh Al Qahatni said: Allah answers your duas in 3 ways: I know you have heard of this so many times but look at it keenly this time round. Let it sink in the mind.

1. He answers your dua immediately. Yep that is when I say; Blue ticks and typing (not literally, His way is way faster than that but you get me right?!) 😉 Trust me, if you have ever made a dua with so much sincerity from the heart, you will relate to this perfectly.

2. He doesn’t give you what you want so that He prevents you from some harm. We have cried. Most of us or all of us for something we wanted so badly. You cry your eyes and heart out but the answer you get is ‘silence’. You pray and cry in days, in months, in years and you give up because you think Allah doesn’t feel you, doesn’t love you…then some day years later something better happens in your life and you are so happy and you just say, ‘I’ve never been happier that what I wanted never happened!’ Ever done that? or heard someone say that? It could be for a job they wanted so badly, or a spouse, or a journey or a child…it can be anything. Yes, that is Allah, loving you and protecting you always. Have trust in Him!

3. Allah doesn’t answer your dua so that you can get abundant reward in jannah. All this pain and heart-ache you are going through right now, be patient about it. Be happy with what Allah has prepared for you. Nabii Ayub aleyhi salam was tested with sickness and loss of wealth and children and Allah answered his dua 18 years later. Mind you, he was a prophet and his dua is immediately accepted yet Allah answered him only after all those years. Be patient. Don’t say that is a prophet I can’t wait that long. Yes, but you can wait for as long as you can.

There are several other promises Allah has made to us, but we are just too blind to see or too unfocused to understand. Verily, in the qur’an and hadiths and hadith al qudsi, you will find Allah repeatedly telling us talking to us, promising us, giving us hope…

“Abu Dharr reported: The Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings be upon him, relates from his Lord that Allah said:

يَا عِبَادِي إِنِّي حَرَّمْتُ الظُّلْمَ عَلَى نَفْسِي وَجَعَلْتُهُ بَيْنَكُمْ مُحَرَّمًا فَلَا تَظَالَمُوا

O my servants, I have forbidden oppression for myself and have made it forbidden among you, so do not oppress one another.

يَا عِبَادِي كُلُّكُمْ ضَالٌّ إِلَّا مَنْ هَدَيْتُهُ فَاسْتَهْدُونِي أَهْدِكُمْ

O my servants, all of you are astray except for those I have guided, so seek guidance from me and I will guide you.

يَا عِبَادِي كُلُّكُمْ جَائِعٌ إِلَّا مَنْ أَطْعَمْتُهُ فَاسْتَطْعِمُونِي أُطْعِمْكُمْ

O my servants, all of you are hungry except for those I have fed, so seek food from me and I will feed you.

يَا عِبَادِي كُلُّكُمْ عَارٍ إِلَّا مَنْ كَسَوْتُهُ فَاسْتَكْسُونِي أَكْسُكُمْ

O my servants, all of you are naked except for those I have clothed, so seek clothing from me and I will clothe you.

يَا عِبَادِي إِنَّكُمْ تُخْطِئُونَ بِاللَّيْلِ وَالنَّهَارِ وَأَنَا أَغْفِرُ الذُّنُوبَ جَمِيعًا فَاسْتَغْفِرُونِي أَغْفِرْ لَكُمْ

O my servants, you sin by night and day and I forgive all sins, so seek forgiveness from me and I will forgive you.

يَا عِبَادِي إِنَّكُمْ لَنْ تَبْلُغُوا ضَرِّي فَتَضُرُّونِي وَلَنْ تَبْلُغُوا نَفْعِي فَتَنْفَعُونِي

O my servants, you will not be able to cause harm to me and you will not be able to cause benefit to me.

يَا عِبَادِي لَوْ أَنَّ أَوَّلَكُمْ وَآخِرَكُمْ وَإِنْسَكُمْ وَجِنَّكُمْ كَانُوا عَلَى أَتْقَى قَلْبِ رَجُلٍ وَاحِدٍ مِنْكُمْ مَا زَادَ ذَلِكَ فِي مُلْكِي شَيْئًا

O my servants, were the first of you and the last of you, the human of you and the jinn of you, to become as pious as the most pious heart of anyone of you, that would not increase My kingdom in anything.

يَا عِبَادِي لَوْ أَنَّ أَوَّلَكُمْ وَآخِرَكُمْ وَإِنْسَكُمْ وَجِنَّكُمْ كَانُوا عَلَى أَفْجَرِ قَلْبِ رَجُلٍ وَاحِدٍ مَا نَقَصَ ذَلِكَ مِنْ مُلْكِي شَيْئًا

O my servants, were the first of you and the last of you, the human of you and the jinn of you, to be as wicked as the most wicked heart of anyone of you, that would not decrease My kingdom in anything.

يَا عِبَادِي لَوْ أَنَّ أَوَّلَكُمْ وَآخِرَكُمْ وَإِنْسَكُمْ وَجِنَّكُمْ قَامُوا فِي صَعِيدٍ وَاحِدٍ فَسَأَلُونِي فَأَعْطَيْتُ كُلَّ إِنْسَانٍ مَسْأَلَتَهُ مَا نَقَصَ ذَلِكَ مِمَّا عِنْدِي إِلَّا كَمَا يَنْقُصُ الْمِخْيَطُ إِذَا أُدْخِلَ الْبَحْرَ

O my servants, were the first of you and the last of you, the human of you and the jinn of you, to rise up in one place and make a request of me, and were I to give everyone what he requested, that would not decrease what I have any more than a needle would decrease the sea if put into it.

يَا عِبَادِي إِنَّمَا هِيَ أَعْمَالُكُمْ أُحْصِيهَا لَكُمْ ثُمَّ أُوَفِّيكُمْ إِيَّاهَا فَمَنْ وَجَدَ خَيْرًا فَلْيَحْمَدْ اللَّهَ وَمَنْ وَجَدَ غَيْرَ ذَلِكَ فَلَا يَلُومَنَّ إِلَّا نَفْسَهُ

O my servants, it is only your deeds that I record for you and then recompense for you, so let him who finds good praise Allah and let him who finds other than that blame no one but himself.”

Keep having faith, keep being strong, keep thanking Allah, keep trusting Him and most importantly; keep smiling 🙂

CHAPTER THREE

Photo Courtesy: http://www.terapeak.com/

Continuation from chapter two: http://lubnah.me.ke/spreading-the-wings-chapter-2/

 

“Being born in an Asian society with disability has a stigma of its own and discrimination. This was the situation before Dear Diary was born.

After having struggled to live up to everyone’s expectations, having adjusted to all kinds of situations environmentally and also the attitude of people taking me for granted, always keeping the disabled on the side, not including them in the community in any kind of decision making, is what gave birth to Dear Diary.

Down the line after 10 years I am glad that the way people look at me now is different from 10 years ago. Now I am considered part of the society. It wasn’t easy to build a name to keep up to, the pace to keep a smile and keep going, but I have proved my stand. Today I am respected. People want to be associated with me. People want to support me in all that I do purely for humanity and this is a great achievement.

However there is still discrimination where marriage is concerned. People especially in the Asian society have a mindset that a person with disability should not fall in love or have a partner whereas the same disabled person can be part of everything else in the society.

So it makes me wonder why a man or a woman with disability in the Asian society or culture is considered to be not in need of love or to be loved by that special someone…” Nafisa Khanbhai


We have probably seen so many disabled people in our lives; on the streets, in our work places, in our homes and in our communities. As much as they could be outstanding, hardworking, beautiful, strong…there would always be a ‘but’ in the middle of the sentence.

“She is capable and talented to do the job, but she doesn’t have legs…”

“He has outstanding qualifications, but he is deaf…”

“She is beautiful, she would have made a wonderful wife and mother, but…”

The ‘buts’ could go on and on forever and this is because we no longer look at them as normal human beings as what we are. But this is the funny part of life right? Someone ‘normal’ could be so depressed, with so much on their plate, their hearts could be tearing apart, they can barely focus and think straight, yet we still give them the chance to work, to get married, to have a family and a social life, because ‘everyone deserves a chance to prove what they are really capable of.’ Then why can’t we offer the same opportunities to those who are disabled yet still can do what any other normal person can do?

I can’t totally deny that there are some disabled people who can’t do some things because it is simply beyond their power, beyond their abilities and capabilities but there are those who have stood out from the crowd. They are always there but they end up seating on the pavements of the road, begging. Sometimes it is because this is the easiest way out of their troubles but sometimes, they really have no other way except this. And this is because you have stigmatized them; we have.

Have you ever seen the fuss we make when someone gets married or marries a blind girl, or an albino, or a man with no legs, or a lady who is both deaf and dumb? We make it seem like they are aliens, they belong to a world that is close to ours but not exactly the same as ours. Why then don’t we exaggerate the same way when someone marries a totally distorted soul? A soul that is crying out for help? Is it because they are beautiful on the outside or that they are good at covering their pain with a lovely smile?

I am not saying that people with depression issues don’t deserve to be married or be employed or be happy in their lives because anyway, we are all victims of the pain in our hearts. We just endure it differently. But my point is, if we can accept ourselves with all our unseen imperfections and flaws, why then not accept those whose flaws are visible and can be seen?

Mrs Fatema narrates of how once a visitor came home and found Nafisa in a bad state and she quickly told her that maybe someone did some witchcraft or something of the sort to Nafisa. But Nafisa’s mother is a believer that God tests anyone in any way, and this was their test.

The stigma is there everywhere. People believing that disabled people are cursed or victims of witchcraft or a punishment from God etcetera etcetera so however much they may be friends with them or colleagues, there is still some tension in the air, a gap that is always there to differentiate them; ‘the normal people’ to him/her, ‘the disabled’. There is that fine unseen, yet felt line between these two kinds of people and perhaps this line will exist forever.

Go to supermarkets, Government buildings, malls, Company offices, hospitals, schools, how many actually have ‘disabled-friendly’ environments? Are there any wheelchairs, ramps, sign language translators, brail documents? Ask any disabled person how many times they had to cancel their plans because they can’t climb the stairs? Or that there is no one to communicate to with sign language? How many times have you seen a disabled person board a matatu? Have you seen how hectic it is for them? Are the conductors and drivers patient enough to let them board the vehicle and sit comfortably before rushing off? How many schools are there for the disabled? What is the condition of these schools? Most of the times, they are pathetic and sometimes teachers are the same ones who take advantage of the students’ conditions.

Why do we wait until we have become victims ourselves, or until we fall in love with one of them, or when one of our close friends or family members becomes a disabled, is when we decide to think rationally and humanly about them? These people are most often than not, around us or near us all the time. We just don’t see them or even look at them. We don’t try putting ourselves in their shoes. We never think of how that could be you or me someday. We forget that God has never stopped creating us and that we too could become handicapped at any moment in our lives. And I mean, ANY MOMENT. It could even be right now as you read this…

I am not trying to curse you or anyone else. I am trying to remind you that God can twist your story whenever He wills. You just have to be humble to those less advantaged than you. Try helping out whenever you can to those disabled, even if it is just by granting them your true friendship, loyalty and companionship.

I am just trying to tell you that the next time you see a disabled person, treat them like how you would want someone else to treat you if you were wearing the same shoes…


To be continued…stay tuned 🙂

By: Haadya A.

Photo Courtesy: http://img15.deviantart.net/

 

Shadows of the battles we fight,

It’s memories keeping us up at night,

The sky now is never bright.

 

Blame in folded knots,

Hammering our hearts like nuts and bolts.

 

Fear of expression

Our souls dying with depression

 

Courage blown like an autumn leaf,

Happiness fading like our once vast coral reef.

 

We have forgotten to care

All we do is nod and stare

 

We are like dying roots of the big tree

We are trapped in our own battles and can never be free

 

It has been a long while

Since we last saw a real smile

 

We lose seconds of reality

Our actions are now done silently

 

If we could all go back to our heart

We can make another beautiful start.

 

We are but oblivious things

We’ve lost the title of human beings.

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Mr. Love was not only blind, he was bipolar too. Every other day I would see him take a morning walk around the park. On one day you would see him waving his hand enthusiastically to all the neighbours who called out to him on his way, grinning all the way from teeth A to Z, his head held high, his sunglasses worn in style and his dimples adding spice to his beautiful smile. But the next day? You would see him walking head down. His cheeks would be swollen like he just rubbed off some yeast on them. His forehead would have lines formed that wouldn’t disappear for the rest of the day. On such a day, you wouldn’t want to shout, “Hallo Mr. Love” like you’d always do. On such days, he was untouchable and very unpredictable. At the smallest thing he would create a scene, or cry or get so furious that his face would turn pepper red. So on these gloomy days, everyone in the neighbourhood would give him space. Ignore him, avoid him and sometimes totally run away from him.

As I grew up, I couldn’t help but wonder why Mr. Love was the way he was. My grandma would tell me his stories from time to time. He was an extreme person, we all knew that but despite all that, we also knew he had the purest soul ever. He loved children and whenever he was at the park, he would sit at his favourite spot on the bench right in front of the playing field. He would then call out to the children and hand them sweets. My friends never got tired of conning him. They would always come round two for more sweets and pretend to be other kids. He loved helping people despite his disability and was the most affectionate person in the neighbourhood.

“It is because of his blindness; that is what makes him so bitter to life,” my grandma would justify his behaviour from time to time.

“That doesn’t justify his hysterical behaviour you know mum?” My mother would debate, “God tests us in different ways. He should accept his condition and be happy with life.”

“But he IS happy!” Grandma would insist, “It is just sometimes he can’t control his emotions…”

Rumour had it that Mr. Love was once married to a lady called Pride. I wasn’t born yet but everyone talks of her dazzling beauty. She was too beautiful, they say. Elegant height, almond shaped eyes, thick lips, some said she was more beautiful than Angelina Jolie, some said she was a little bit less beautiful than her. The theories were many but no one could out-rightly reject that she was beyond pretty. Everyone wondered why she accepted Mr. Love’s proposal yet she could have been married by some Saudi prince or some tycoon somewhere. But as they say, the heart wants what it wants. Perhaps her beauty was somehow a threat to him because he was always too protective, too attached which ended up in them having a divorce. Pride no doubt loved her husband, he was handsome anyway, but she had a great impact on him that made him drift away from the people. She had set standards for her husband and herself. She chose whom Mr. Love should talk to and whom to not get involved with. Her classy and sassy personality pressured her to maintain an image, and for her to do so, she also had to control her husband excessively so that he doesn’t destroy her image. As such, Pride was not all that much liked in the neighbourhood. She had changed their lovely Mr. Love.

There was another rumour about Mr. Love although everyone who talked about it, would do it in whispers, with heads close together, with fingers on their lips. “Mr. Love almost killed a man with his cane once. He was messing up with Pride.” Mr. Love was too jealous, they say. He didn’t want any man getting too close to his muse.

“But isn’t that how all couples are? Jealous?” Grandma would justify again.

“Mum! He almost ki…”

“Shhhhh!!!! He might pass by and hear you!” Grandma would say in a low tone. “What is wrong with you anyway? Why are you always against Mr. Love?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know Ma. He broke Kind’s heart remember?” My mother replied.

“Who is Kind?!” I whispered quickly.

“Kind was Mr. Love’s second wife. After that incident of Mr. Love almost killing a man with his walking cane, Pride asked for a divorce. She thought it was healthier for Mr. Love to be away from her, and safer too. She claimed that Mr. Love was becoming insane with his emotions. Well, she made a right decision. Many of us wanted her out of the neighbourhood. So they parted ways. Then after about two years he met Kind. She was a short, curvy lady. She was her own kind of beautiful and she worked as a social worker at the children’s home. Nonetheless, no one stopped comparing her to Pride. How more beautiful she was, more classy, more elegant bla bla bla…” Grandma explained.

“She was from down-town. A very simple lady with a great heart unlike the town princess; Pride. Plus Mr. Love was way more handsome to suit her beauty. So everyone now thought Lady Pride suited him better. Nonetheless, Mr. Love had his own kind of attachment to her too. You know, they all forget how smart, intelligent and soft-hearted Kind was. AND, she was able to mend back Mr. Love’s relations with the community.” Mum said.

“So why did he break her heart?” I lower my neck closer to them and whisper again.

“Because his heart was already broken by Pride…Once your heart is broken dear, you can only patch your holes with rags but never to be fixed again. You can never be whole again.” Grandma said, shaking her head sadly.

“Still doesn’t justify what he did to her mummy!”

“What did he do to her?”

“He left her. Just one day he woke up and told Kind that he can’t live with her anymore, that his heart was too damaged, that he couldn’t totally love her like she deserves to be loved. He then asked her to leave before he was back from his morning walk.” Mum explained.

“But you previously said he was already getting attached to her! why would he do such a terrible thing to an angel like Kind?!”

“Well…no one can ever tell. Some say he liked her too much it made him afraid she would leave him too like Pride did. Some say he still loved Pride. Some say he was still hurting from his past…the theories are many…”

“I say, it all has to do with the inferiority complex he suffers from his blindness. Perhaps he believes he doesn’t deserve all that affection so he doubts all those that love him. I feel sorry for him. He is just a lonely man…” Grandma says.

“There he is!” I say as I climb on the coach to look out of the window. There he is; Mr. Love with his walking cane, head bowed down, his cheeks swollen. “Just one of his gloomy days,” I sigh.

Mum follows me to the window, stares at him for a moment before saying, “That poor disturbed man really needs divined intervention.” She sighs too and I sigh again, this time louder than before, “Oh poor Mr. Love!”

 

 

Continuation from ‘Unbroken Wings- chapter 1’: http://lubnah.me.ke/unbroken-wings/

Photo Courtesy: https://angypaints.files.wordpress.com

“My parents have given me tremendous support. They never stopped me at any juncture to pursue whatever I wanted to do. After class eight, I couldn’t go on with secondary education due to my condition but I joined Burhaniya finishing college instead. I did a two years home science course there where I perfected my art of embroidery, crotchet, fabric/glass painting amongst other skills that I learnt,” she says as she looks at her art pieces, longingly, that are still hanged on her bedroom walls, “Unfortunately I stopped doing art when I started venturing into other things in life, but I still love art like I always have.”

Nafisa didn’t stop spreading her wings by learning art; she went on to seeking a job where she first worked at a Celebral Palsy centre situated in Tudor in 1994. She however had to quit because the pay couldn’t fit her needs and also it being a tough job handling the challenged children. She thereafter studied several packages at Aries Data Systems, she got a job at Compucon Ventures Ltd and worked there for two years before the company closed. Not giving up, she went on to work at Tyre and Tread ventures, worked there for a while before moving on to Marajani Communications where the working hours and days were challenging and thus couldn’t stay there any longer too. Her last job was with her father at Hatimi Joinery works Ltd.

Besides all that, she was also a member of the Rotary Club of Mombasa since 1998. The club brings people together for beneficial activities, fellowship and to help the needs of others. Nafisa became part of the Rotaract wing which is the youth wing of Rotary club i.e. below 30 fellows. She was given the responsibility of Director of community service three months after becoming a member, later she became its president in 2000 and 2001. Again in 2009, she joined ‘Inner Wheel club of Mombasa’ which is a group of the wives and female relatives of Rotarians. In this group she served as a president for two years.

“Nafisa used to do wonders at the Rotaract youth wing. She used to come up with great ideas, organize everything, work tirelessly and make things happen. They used to call me her transport manager for I would always be the one to pick her up for meetings and all events. I tell you, Nafisa is the strongest woman I have ever met. She never made me feel her disability or even allow me to pity her at any moment,” Manoj, her long-time friend says.

“My sister has always been doing things that not even us; the normal and healthy beings are doing. While she was still at Rotaract, she once came up with this idea of feeding handicapped children during Christmas. She arranged everything and made packages for the children by the help of other Rotractors. During that Christmas, we fed 1200 children. It was a huge success. It was because of her great ambition and passion that she was sponsored by Rotary International for a tour to Zambia, Malawi, Mozambique and Zimbabwe,” Hussein, Nafisa’s elder brother narrates.

“What Nafisa has done is prove to me and everyone else that disability is not inability. She physically participates in all events. You know we have so many people who have roads named after them, hospitals, schools yet all they did is give out  large cheques while someone like Nafisa always goes out of her way to do the charity projects. She is resourceful, determined, kind and caring; always has great ideas and makes sure she is present to supervise all her projects. Nafisa works even when it is harmful for her body. She is indeed one of the unsung heroes,” an ex-rotarian says.

In 2006, Nafisa went on to do something that was going to change her life forever. She organized a stage drama by the name ‘Dear Diary’ which was highlighting the challenges of the disabled. The play revolved around Hanifa, who has lived with a physical disability all her life. She is forced out of school at an early age due to her failing health, shattering her dreams of becoming a lawyer. She then meets Zaheer and falls in love with him. But Zaheer did that one devastating thing; he dumps Hanifa for a ‘perfectly created’ lady. The play was sponsored by Nakumatt holdings, directed by Namanje and Godiah, stage managed by Muscat Sayye and produced by Nafisa herself. It was first acted at Little Theatre Club and the play brought a new untouched topic to people’s minds; the hidden feelings of the disabled.

The play won the hearts of many and the start was magical. The play opened with the main character, Nafisa, being wheeled onto the podium to receive an award. But she pauses at the base of the staircase and rejects her guide’s offer to lift her onto the stage. She then read what she calls a speech from her diary:

“I am standing before this staircase of confusion with a task of transforming my thoughts, to a destiny and the access to this wonderful destiny lies on the ability of this wheelchair. I have struggled all my life to make it to the peak, and I am standing at the foot of my dream to receive a star of honour for serving diligently towards a humanity cause. They are giving medals to humanity-generals up there (points to the podium), but the same problem I have fought all my life (pointing at the stairs) is barring me from receiving my priceless trophy.”

The play was staged again thrice at Little theatre club again, then done again twice in 2008 at the same venue while the last two shows were staged in 2009, in Kenya National theatre in Nairobi.

“My aim for Dear Diary is to change the perception of the society of people with disability. And another thing that inspired me to put up my life on stage is that every time I visit the United Kingdom, I get a completely different experience as there are facilities for the physically disabled. I feel that if a quarter of the facilities there were put in place in our country, our life would be better for us.”

In 2011, she formed an initiative with the same name as her play, ‘Dear Diary Initiative”. It is a non-profitable community initiative to advocate for the welfare and rights of the disabled. With that, Nafisa allowed herself to transform from being a sensitive girl with unachieved dreams to a strong, passionate lady making changes.

“Nafisa dedicated her life to Dear Diary. She still does. And without bias I would say, Dear Diary is Nafisa more than it is a group. She is the face of the initiative and she has worked without paying herself any penny from what they are offered. See Dear Diary depends entirely on sponsors and well wishers. Nafisa is not working anywhere else to earn herself any extra penny. Yet still, she would never accept any money for herself from Dear Diary Money. Even the religion allows us that for the collector of charity gets a portion, but Nafisa would never allow that. She does this entirely as charity. She is strong willed and a go-getter,” Mustan, Nafisa’s other brother says.

Without knowing it, Nafisa was inspiring many other disabled people AND normal people. To date DDI projects have been so many and her principle was that, disabled people do not need us to give them food and money and our sympathy. But they need us to help them in ways that can make them stand up for themselves. Be strong enough to venture into the world. Hence, Nafisa’s strategies in DDI was not only providing food but more important things like albino caps, educational text books in brail, reflective jackets, wheelchairs, mosquito nets among many other things. This is precisely what made Nafisa outstanding. She knew exactly what her fellows needed. She is empathetic and looks beyond the corners of the box. She wanted to make a difference and she did. She still does.

“I have known Nafisa since childhood and I was there too when her story was first staged. I was the one who was playing the background music of the play. I have been with her through many phases of her life and have always considered her my sister. From her childhood where she used to like scrabble and keram and hide and seek, to the days we used to meet at her grandparents’ farm in Mariakani during holidays, to the times she would feel low due to loneliness…I can tell you that she is very aggressive, hardworking, with a vision. She never asks for favours from anyone not unless it is entirely above her powers. Otherwise, she is very strong and independent…and this is how she has been able to make DDI something amazing,” Aziz, her other childhood friend says.

On September 2015, Nafisa and her Dear Diary team organized a charity fashion show to raise funds for physically challenged people at Fort Jesus in Mombasa. All the participants were people living with a disability. The event was attended by hundreds of people, including Mombasa County gender and sports executive Mohammad Abbas and director of gender and youth department Esther Ingolo.

“When she first told me about the fashion show I have to admit I wasn’t really sure how it would turn out but it was a great success! I wasn’t surprised though, this is Nafisa. She has always been strong and firm and she never gives up. She is truly a source of inspiration,” Juzer, one of Nafisa’s relatives and close friend says.

“Just at the last moment, some of her colleagues at Dear Diary dropped out of the project. It became a panic moment because it was unexpected. My other brother called me that Nafisa needed us, so we rushed in to help. But as always Nafisa was positive and ensured that the fashion show worked out amazingly as planned,” Hussein recalls.

“The use of the word Outstanding would be undermining Nafisa. She is more than that.  Why? Usually when a person is challenged, they usually are either trying to help themselves or are looking at others to help them but Nafisa is out to help others.  I believe she would have done more of charity work if not impended by her challenges but again I don’t think an abled person would be doing so much she is doing right now. But then again you would only feel the pinch if you wear the shoes.

I also remember when we were in our early adulthood; she joined Leo Club where I was the chairman and would be game for any activity or picnics we would plan. Never once did we have to make any special arrangements for her. Whilst as usual a distance came in-between us till the time she joined the Leo Club. Again I moved to Nairobi and only got back when I joined DDI. For the past 3 years we are in touch almost on weekly basis with the common factor being the charity work.” –Muslim

As such, Nafisa was increasingly creating hope in many other people’s lives. She was restoring faith in humanity in many souls…

TO BE CONTINUED…

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