by Binti Mawar*
Author’s Note: This article is inspired by Ahmed Mukhtar’s reflections published by The Nairobi Bookshelf.
Yesterday, I hurt someone I love. He has been through so much in the past few weeks and he has given up so much—nay, almost everything—in his life. But he has held onto the strength of his love for me. I am happy to have been an anchor point for him. Yet I am also an internal wreck. In fact, I had often hoped that he would find someone else to love. I felt that I wasn’t deserving of his kind of love, not because I am a bad person, but because I am afraid I may not be able to show him the same love. He has always been open to me. He has shared his fears with me. He has shared his gloomy moments and happy moments. He is a good guy who has not shown the world the gentle soul that lies within him. But there are those that have seen it.
Recently, the world came tumbling down on my good friend Ahmed Mukhtar. I was not at the centre of his misfortune. Yet I was not far off from it. As I watched the tumbling, so many questions came to my mind. The one question that seemed most pronounced and that I have been unable to answer is: Who exactly are we? More specifically, who exactly am I?
My dear friend has been judged a lot of late. He has had stones thrown at him. He has had swords driven into his back. And he has certainly had ropes strung around his neck. As all this was done, he carried an invisible heavy rock on his shoulder. As I picture this image, I imagine a man on his knees, just about to drop onto the ground. Instead, I see a man who held onto his belief in God. I see a man who believed God would not let him fall. And God did not forsake him. He never does. I see a man I admire—someone who has been real. My friend believes that, despite what everyone says about him, what matters is what he knows of himself and what God knows of him. I see a man who knows himself, something few of us can say about ourselves. My friend has a heart that hurts, just like any other human being. So, even though he can keep strong through everything he has had to endure, he is a man in pain.
Yesterday, I had mixed emotions. I reflected on the many conversations I have had with different people over the past few weeks. I remembered the things we have discussed and how those things have made me feel. At one point, I was very upset, both at myself and at the world. I was upset at the world, or rather at the people in the world, because I felt that many of us have become ruthless. And we have become blind. We are unable to see people for who they are but for the scandals we want to see in them. A man wakes up in the morning, silently hoping that the day will be good to him. We see the man walking the streets, greeting people, smiling, waving, laughing—all things external. We do not see his heart. We do not see his mind. Sometimes, we see a man disturbed, a man withdrawn, a man seemingly distant, troubled, worried—still, all things external, all things perceivable. But we do not get to know what made him happy or sad? Or what made him jovial or distant. Well, not until we ask.
My friend is not perfect. He is far from perfection, just as I am. And just as you are too. He is a man with a past he values. It is not because he is proud of the things he has done or the way he has lived. It is because everything he has done, or the life he has lived, has made him who he is today. This is a man with feelings, just like every single one of us. He is a man who hurts, sometimes even more deeply than most of us. He is a fragile man. But you will hardly ever get to notice his vulnerability because he is also a man who does not easily open up to people. He has learned to manage reactions he never likes in ways that most people do not understand. He sees the good in people and tries to help out whenever he can, even when it causes him the greatest inconvenience. Unfortunately, not everyone can get to see or experience that wonderful side of him. He is also a person who, like me, finds it hard to let people back to his life once they have broken his trust. He withdraws and distances himself so that he does not suffer the same degree of hurt that he has felt before, or so that he does not lose his sober demeanour because he has been pushed to the edge. He is a man whose real story has not been heard. A man whose journey people do not know of. A man whose struggles lie in an unwritten diary. A man who is judged because he is a book whose cover was chosen by someone else—and many people fail to read beyond the cover to discover the untold stories that lie inside.
We always assume we know everything about other people, but we often don’t know a lot. In my religion, if you want to know the person you intend to marry, for instance, you are advised to ask reliable sources who will tell you both the good and the bad of your suitor. Among the sources are the person’s neighbours who may tell you her/his daily routine. The person’s workmates may tell you how s/he conducts herself/himself at work and in the company of others. Those who have travelled with the person may also have a word or two to say. Family and friends may also be asked about the person in question. However, when we ask people who rarely interact with the person or whose views are influenced by personal differences with the person, the information we receive may not be accurate or reliable.
Sometimes we fail our friends because we think we are protecting them.
Reflecting on the things that have happened to my friend, I have spent the better part of yesterday and today asking myself if I even know who I am. The truth is, I don’t. I think I know what people want of me, or what I think they want of me. The truth is, I am not who they probably think I am. The truth is, I am just a girl who has not lived enough; I have been too afraid to embrace the person that I know I am. I may be an introvert, but around the people I am most comfortable with, I am playful and sometimes loud and so talkative. The truth is that I love God so much, but I am not so religiously knowledgeable. But this does not stop me from trying to be better or from doing good things. And it certainly does not stop my yearning to learn more. So, who am I to throw a stone at someone else because they are going through their own struggle? Sometimes I feel so flawed, especially when I find myself failing to keep strong against things I know not to be right. Sometimes I get very jealous; sometimes I get very angry; sometimes I get so proud that my stubbornness doubles. But it does not make me a bad person. And it certainly does not make other people bad either, unless they know of their weaknesses and they do not want to do anything about it, and they do not care about how it affects the people they hurt. The truth is that sometimes I hurt people unintentionally. Sometimes it is because I am not strong enough to face myself and to stand up to myself and say things I am most scared of saying. Yes, sometimes I shy away from saying the things that need to be said because I am scared of hurting others, and sometimes because I am scared that I will not be able to take the responses that they may give.
Despite all that, the observations I have made from watching my friend go through everything he has been through, and how he has handled it all, have taught me an important lesson: I need to quickly check myself and determine who I am and who I want to be, and to be sure about it so that I will be able to stand up for the things I believe in. And, more importantly, so that I embrace the person I am, with my flaws, and accept that there is always room for improvement—so that I stop allowing people’s unrealistic or imagined expectations affect not just myself but also the people I love. I admire a lot of people in my life, but I rarely meet people who have the level of strength I have seen in my friend. For people like him, I really pray to God to send a lot of good their way and take away the hardships that cause them pain. I pray to God to bring them closer to Him because of their patience and their resolve to believe in Him. I pray for my friend.
*Following the example of Ahmed Mukhtar, the author of this article has chosen to use her pen name.
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