Grief and Joy

2020 almost broke me, and in all honesty, I have spent most of 2021 just trying to heal.

When you experience a single wound, it hurts, the pain is acute, but it can be located. Even if it does not make sense, it can be located. But what happens when there are multiple wounds, each with a different pain? I lost my uncle, grandfather and father in the space of 8 weeks. My world changed and even with crowds of people around me, for the first time in my life, I experienced loneliness. I found comfort in my faith and in the knowledge that I carried more of my father in me than even I realized. I comforted myself with his words, sat on his seat, laid on his pillow, drank from his cup and told his stories to my nieces and nephews. I made sense of the pain but that did not lessen it in any way.

I know that living is a blessing from God and an opportunity to honor those whose footprints guide our path. So I made a commitment to be more intentional, to be more present and to love more courageously. This was my promise to my father and to myself. Have I managed to achieve that this year? I don’t know. But one thing I can be sure of is that I truly understand what it means to live with grief and joy, and to hold them both at the same time.

We all have the capacity to carry complicated emotions. People tell you that time heals and that it gets easier. But they don’t tell you that grief comes in waves. They don’t tell you that it makes you lose your breathe in the moments you least expect it. They don’t tell you that even in moments of joy, you carry grief.

This year was filled with many personal and professional blessings, and with those came the ache of grief. My faith teaches me that when we give we ease our hearts, we cure our sadness, we purify our wealth, we become closer to the owner of our soul and the listener of our prayers… so in each moment of joy and pain, I prayed and I gave.

“…there is always goodness in giving no matter how little.” — Ali Ibn Abi Talib (RA)

There is a freedom you find when you give. The realization that fear teaches us to hold on to what we think is ours, while love gives us permission to let go.

You never lose by giving.

The pandemic has given us all so many opportunities to let go and give… to heal our pain by helping others. But it is also amplified our personal and collective fear of loss, with many of us holding on to people, jobs, and places that do not bring us joy. The fear of loss is suffocating and I was already out of breath.

In a year where I thought all I would try and do was survive and heal, God brought me so many moments of joy. All I had to do was let go of expectation and the need to hold on. To give myself permission to cry, to laugh, to forgive, to be alone, to stop and to move. Those moments of joy were divine blessings and a reminder that the prayers of those who are no longer on Earth, may be seen in those they leave behind. With every blessing, I hear my fathers prayers. And with every moment of challenge, I smile, knowing that I carry my faith and his strength to help me through.

Grief never leaves… it changes you forever.

I am grateful for the lessons of this year. I have grown into the woman I want to be. I am stronger, more fearless, and more loving.

Nomadic Footprints

Nomads are a source of wonder, and threat.

With no settled home, no single identity, no adherence to man made boundaries, they exist through periodic movements. No space is theirs but they claim it (temporarily) as home. The 'other'; whose transient presence is impossible to contain, is a threat to 'order' and regime. To be a nomad is to find comfort in the spaces in between, to understand that 'home' is not a tangible place and that places are produced by mobilities.

My nomadic footprints guide me through the world, as I learn, teach, move and stay (temporarily). The lens through which I see the world is informed by faith, bloodline and education.

In faith....

“Be in this world as if you were a stranger or a passing traveller.” (Al-Bukhāri)

In Islam this world is referred to in Arabic as al-dunya, which comes from a root meaning closeness, because it is closer to us than the Hereafter at this point in time. We are reminded that our ultimate aspirations are not of this world, and that this is a temporary abode. We are in fact moving towards another destination, the Hereafter, which will be our permanent home and resting place. We are therefore reminded to take care in planting our hearts and minds too firmly on this Earth. Yes, we must live, learn, build, love, enjoy and embrace, whilst accepting that all things on earth, but our deeds are short lived.

My faith is my fuel.

A nomadic bloodline...

Somalis are traditionally nomadic peoples, living as agro-pastoralists or nomadic livestock herders. Their lives consisted of moving to live; following paths that would allow them to find sustenance. They carry their homes with them, and adapt to every environment they find themselves in. Places have purpose and once that purpose is fulfilled, or denied, movement is inevitable. It is a culture, a custom, and way of life that is built on trust. Trusting that the earth will send you where you need to be. Trusting in your ability to survive and thrive. Trusting in time and the wisdom of its calling.

My bloodline is my anchor.

Educational spaces and places....

Education for me, was never bound by space, and I resisted the confining assumption that it must be bound by place. Schools, colleges and universities serve a purpose, indeed they do, but education is life long, and to be lived in all spaces. My education has taken place in formal educational settings, and also in playgrounds, in Saturday schools, in hospital rooms, in community centres, and around kitchen tables. I learn anywhere and everywhere, moving towards any place that offers knowledge that reflects what I need in that moment, and moving away from any place that denies or confines my yearning to learn. The nomadic learner is not confined by physical movement, so when 'learning' spaces that are toxic, become the spaces our bodies occupy, we must find ways to maintain freedom through mind, heart and spirit.

Education is my compass.