This is the pretty little application I use to harass & call my loved ones.
I called my mother’s cell phone about 5 times today, and I called the headquarters (my family’s house) another 10 times looking to speak to my mother. You might say obsessive, controlling, whatever, but we have that kind of relationship. The “Good morning mom, I just wiped the crust off my eyes,” & the “I’m going to sleep, goodnight hooyo” conversations. We sometimes discuss how we plan on taking over the world, but that’s a whole new story altogether.
When I finally did get a hold of dearest mother a few hours later, she had called me back from her cellphone and said hello in such a relaxed, ‘so I saw you called me’ tone. Like nothing was wrong.
Me: Hooyo, I remember the days when parents used to blast their children’s cellphones with calls and text messages. Cajaa’ib!
The only explanation I have for this is a phrase my friend has been using quite frequently to make sense of all the odd things happening in this world of ours. “Walaal, two thousand eleffen baa la marayaa.”
I’m just going to sneak in here like I haven’t been gone for decades and post this really funny story.
My friend & I have a habit of leaving each other long messages once a week since we’re in completely different timezones & can never catch each other at a normal hour. So I’m listening to a long message she had left for me this morning, and somewhere along the message, I forget that I’m listening to a recording and I start audibly laughing at her story.
U: “So your brother completely embarrassed me but anyway-”
Me: “Haha, Oh my God that’s so fun-”
U: “*censored story*”
Me: “I think you should-”
U: “… so I’m not sure, but anyway I’ve taken some time off work since it’s exam season.”
Me: “That’s gr-”
U: “And *bla bla bla*”
Ok, I let you interrupt me the first time, LET ME TALK.
Me: ” How’s -”
U: “*bla bla bla*”
Is this girl serious? Am I on mute?
Me: “Hello? Can you not hear me? Hello? HELLO?”
U: “*bla bla bla*”
I then notice my call details only to see I’m on a call with my buddy Voicemail. If I end up any more insane, I blame Romania.
I still remember the first time I heard this song. Kuwait. I must’ve been about 8 or 9. My mom and I were hovered over our old, slow computer and I was reading the latest Somali news to her. My parents are both literate and know 3 languages each, but in order for them to teach me about my origins, language, and country, they forced me to read the news to them all the time, to practice my reading skills. I used to love it, mostly because I got to drive the mouse (anyone who knows me well knows I love to control the mouse).
On this particular day, things started off the same but were about to change. My mother and I first watched a short documentary about a Somali girl who shared her story of how she was raped during the war and consequently contracted HIV. It was quite heavy and my mom and I were sad. One of the links on the side was titled “Maryan Mursal – Somali Udiida Ceeb,” meaning ‘Somalia- Don’t Allow Shame for it’ (that’s how I interpret it, at least. Most websites show a slightly different interpretation that somewhat annoys me). My mom asked me to click on it, and we watched. It started off with a young girl, about my age at the time, running with a large Somali flag. The picture eventually shatters and the singing begins. I didn’t understand much at the time, but I remember seeing a tear roll down my mom’s cheek, which prompted me to ask her to break it down for me, line by line. I never knew too much about what Somalia was prior to the war era, all I knew about was the chaos I read in the news on a daily basis, most of which I never understood. My idea of Somali history was misconstrued. But my mother informed me of how things used to be, how it’s changed now, how the song speaks of just that, and urges Somalis to not allow shame for Somalia. Somewhere over the next few minutes, something stirred inside me and I started crying too. I didn’t know why, but I did. I think that’s when I started to fall in love with Somalia, and Maryan Mursal became my favourite artist.
Here’s the original video we watched. I will translate the song, line by line sometime soon, insha’Allah.
This man’s brain works in an amazing way. How efficient! I’m moving into a studio apartment next week and the orderliness and efficiency of Gary Chang’s space caught my attention – not that I can have sliding walls installed… but it would be nice.
The number of back-and-forths with this despicable airline company, WizzAir, have been draining. After all those letters, they have the nerve to come at me with this nonsense. Who in their right mind prepares their luggage for it to be lost? They really think they’re being cute when they ask me to provide video evidence of the contents of my bag at the time of check-in, like it’s perfectly normal to be carrying a video camera when flying. But it’s not over, oh no, the fight shall go on!
They’re so horrible that it took them TWO WEEKS to respond to the message I sent them as soon as I landed on February 24th (after I noticed that their staff at the airport were completely useless, unhelpful, no-customer-service-skills-having, lazy and rude, good-for-nothing people). Notice the initial response on March 10th.
(Yes, this is the start of my smear campaign).
AND they charge per kg for their baggage. Who does that? WizzAir, that’s who. So not only did I lose my luggage, I also had to pay a fee for them to go ahead and make that loss possible. That’s like the icing on the cake.
“but hooyo, i’m bored.”
“you shouldn’t be bored. go pick up the qur’an.”
“haye, hooyo.”
—————–
“hooyo, i had a really bad nightmare.”
“did you read your adhkar last night?”
“erm, no.”
—————–
It’s so easy to slip off. So easy. And you don’t even realize you’re slipping off. Or you completely distract yourself until you get that moment of complete silence where you can no longer avoid your soul, and you realize that your soul is in a comatose. That feeling of emptiness, guilt – it’s all caused by lack of remembrance. How often do we remember our Lord, and sincerely mean our words and actions? How many times do we forget its meaning and allow our 5-a-day turn into a series of robotic movements?
Have you ever had a sincere conversation with Allah? It always works, and sitting down and voicing your thoughts and feelings is so relieving. We get that spiritual high… and (in some cases) we’re gone with the wind again. One thing I really dislike is running to Allah only when I need Him. Like calling an old friend, only when you need something from said friend. It’s an abusive relationship that God definitely doesn’t deserve. Any healthy relationship is based on give and take. Establishing that give and take relationship with Allah is key to a successful and peaceful life, here on Earth, and in the Hereafter, and we should all work towards that. Starting with myself.
And so, following my mother’s advice, may Allah be pleased with her, I’m starting off by making dhikr an essential part of my daily living. I’m making little post it notes and posting them in appropriate spots in my apartment insha’Allah. To remind me incase I forget. It kinda irks me that I have to run to my copy of Fortress of the Muslim for duas I should’ve memorized light years ago. You should try it too.
5:00AM ramblings. Maybe I can sleep now.
Abu Hurairah (May Allah be pleased with him) reported: Messenger of Allah (P.B.U.H) said, “Allah says: `I am just as My slave thinks of Me when he remembers Me.’ By Allah! Allah is more pleased with the repentance of His slave than one of you who unexpectedly finds in the desert his lost camel. `He who comes closer to Me one span, I come closer to him a cubit; and he who comes closer to Me a cubit, I come closer to him a fathom; and if he comes to Me walking, I come to him running.’”
