Cue Self-Loathing

What am I doing with myself? I find that I ask myself that question at least three times a day. Yet, I am unable to answer this question.

I find that there are times where I don't even recognise the person I have become. I guess growing up requires that we change and in many ways I have changed for the better but there are still these moments when I look at myself with disappointment, loathing the things I do and I just can't seem to do anything about it.

Sometimes I wonder if I made different decisions, chose to do things differently, perhaps I wouldn't be in this situation. There was a time not so long ago where I was content with things as they were and never questioned my actions. With the upheaval of that person, I just feel lost and unsure. I find myself second guessing everything I do.

Randomly I find myself going off on a tangent, questioning my very existence to no avail. I am still doing the things I do and I am still finding myself sitting down and hating these very same decisions. I was a very different person and would never have made these sorts of decisions once upon a time. Time and circumstances saw me become someone different and though I complain of disliking this person, I can't seem to be able to overcome the static friction required for me to change.

I keep telling myself I am better, I deserve better and I should actively seek betterment. I live with the thoughts that I deserve someone who will help me fulfil this realisation yet I'm sitting in a stagnant pool of water with no idea how to swim. The ideal is good, but the ability to reach it is severely lacking.

Being content with my lot is really hard. There are many things I am grateful for and would never trade but there are also things I wish I could get rid of. Sometimes I wish I was born in a different era – but now I digress. The issue is of the 21st century no matter how much I wish I was born in the medieval era, my problems will still be the same.

I can't help but wonder if the people I have chosen to surround myself with are a good choice. Some are, without a doubt. These people play an active role in making me a better person through inconspicuous nudges in the right direction. There are however, the one or two unclassified individuals. Why are they in my life? Am I holding out for them? Is there any possibility of a future? Or are they simply just adding to the increasing amount of self-loathing?

Sometimes I wish I could just wake up with all the answers or even better, realise that the life I am currently living is but a dream. I do strongly believe that this life is inconsequential in the greater scheme of things but sadly, right now this life is all I've got and I have to find a way of making it bearable.

My dreams are far more fascinating than my reality and so I find myself sleeping a lot in hopes of an escape. My conundrum isn't a problem of loss of direction. I know what I want from my future and am actively pursuing it. The problem is one of the here and now. How do I shape my adolescence to ensure that my future is fruitful? I’d rather deal with these issues now in order to have a semblance of stability in the future.

Despite being able to air these issues I find that I still have no clarity on how I am to overcome the constant questioning… What am I doing with myself? Honestly and truly, I have no answer.

Cue self-loathing.

Action speaks louder than words

Just a few days ago a friend of mine had the opportunity to take her relationship to new heights. After more than a year of being in an “unlabelled” relationship of sorts, her other half took it upon himself to profess his love to her.

Due to a rather tenacious internet connection and obstinate laptop, I was unable to share this story sooner. The extra time however, lent itself toward increasing my thought process on the matter.

In relation to my own experiences, as well as the experiences of many of those close to me, it seems that saying “I love you” has become such a norm that the words have lost their value. Driven by the belief that the relationship will only hold meaning once these words has been said has resulted in it being said far too early, far too often and has become meaningless.

Though this may seem rather pointless, it does pose a problem, especially in youth. The younger we are the more we yearn for something and someone greater than ourselves. We become consumed  with the idea of being in love that should another claim they feel that way about you, you find yourself becoming far too emotionally attached.

In the era of serial monogamy this problem becomes greatly exaggerated. As we go through a series of partners, each one claiming to love us, we start forgetting the real meaning of these words. We forget the true essence of what it means to ‘love’. It is easy to fall into the trap of monotony and soon a pattern develops. The words no longer carry weight and should someone actually say these words with all the correct feelings behind them, we bear them no mind. Sort of like the boy who cried wolf.

I understand that immaturity and childhood lends itself some leeway in the matter. Yet, what we learn in our foundational years sets the precedent for how we will live out our adult lives. If we start off using such loaded words flippantly, we will never truly appreciate their beauty when we finally settle down with a single person.

The act of love is just that - an act. It is not contained within the words and saying them robotically means nothing in comparison to our actions. It is what we bring to the table that truly matters. Romance as a bonus, the true meaning lies in how we build the other person up and vice versa. It is an on-going process that means little if only professed and not acted upon.

So why not wait? Why not hold back for the right person and more importantly why not wait till you truly feel that way? Saying you love someone shouldn't be part of a routine nor should it be mechanical. It need not be said every single day nor does every profession need to be accompanied by an “I love you too” (except perhaps the first time - no one wants a "thank you" following the initial profession).

Actions speak louder than words. If you can show your love every day, you need not say it. Some things are obvious enough and though verbal reiteration does help, it isn’t the only thing that matters.

Smile

The effect of this single act of smiling is magical. It can transform an entire visage into one of merriment and joy. It lessens the burden of the soul and above all it is contagious.

Walking down the street on a gloomy day surrounded by people in dreary moods can really put a damper on the start to a could-be-wonderful day. Yet out of the clouds threatening to pour rain, arrives this simple person bearing the broadest smile upon their face and suddenly your entire day is transformed.

Smiling is a charity. It brings happiness to everyone who happens to glance at it. Some smile at the pure ridiculousness of it while others can’t explain why seeing others happy makes them feel likewise. It is like watching a group of kids play together in a sandbox. Their carefree spirit and obvious pleasure fills the onlooker with joy. Why?

The answer is simple, happiness is contagious. It is something that we overflow with to the point that we begin to fill the empty vessels around us with the same emotion. This is why happiness can only be described as a gift and the ultimate way to share it is through smiling at strangers, offering a greeting or lending a hand to someone. Without even realising it you could change the entire dynamic of a person’s day.

Our reasons for smiling are endless. Many of us are blessed with amazing friends or lovers who have the ability to bring a smile on your face no matter the time and place. To be blessed with such individuals is something unexplainable. They can turn your entire mood around simply by being in your presence and should they be absent even for a day, their absence is felt far above everything else.

Yet, having people in your life isn’t the only reason to smile. Realising that every day that we wake up alive should be enough to make any person smile. Every night as we fall asleep we can never be too sure if we will wake up again. When we do open our eyes to the light of a new day we should not hesitate to smile at this new opportunity to live. We have families, homes, education and so much more that we should never run out of reasons to smile.

If all else fails and you are stuck as to what on earth to do when all you can do is frown… Google some lame joke and I guarantee you will be far from sad.

On that note I leave you with something that not only made me smile, but had me laughing for hours on end. There are always reasons to smile.

We are alone

Everybody we love and everything we care about in this world eventually fades away. We can't rely on anything lasting and though we may rely on people we can't expect them to be there indefinitely.

Eventually we have to come to terms with the fact that we entered this world alone and one day we will leave it in the same state. All the worldly possessions we have accumulated, hoarded and treasured, will endure while we will perish. Everything we have worked hard to achieve will wither away and eventually, nothing will remain. Maybe someday down the line someone will Google your name and your Facebook or Twitter page might pop up, but apart from that we will leave nothing that can endure time.

The people we meet may seem important right now. We may give them all our attention and time but there will come a time when they will leave you or you will choose to leave them. The space they occupied within your life will be empty for a while and you will mourn their absence. Give it a week or two and slowly their memory will fade until the empty space just a few millimetres left to your right atrium becomes occupied by some other worry. Just like worldly possessions, we won't be able to take any of the people with us when we leave and so essentially we find ourselves alone.

I'm reminded of a poem I was exposed to in high school – Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley. The profound words of wisdom contained within its stanzas were of little consequence to me back then. A specific extract in particular always finds itself floating around in my mind. Now, as I reread words I am struck by just how true they are. 

"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.'

I shudder at the thought of how much time we spend trying to accumulate wealth at the expense of our character and our actual being. We forget we will leave this world alone, that all we leave will be forgotten. We forget that what will remain of us is what we leave with our children – what we teach them and how they live out their lives. They are probably the only ones who will remember us when we leave this world. Material objects amassed won't mourn your departure, of that I am sure.

I know that this is a very cynical view. It is actually very morbid and depressing and most likely you are probably feeling quite hopeless. I wish I could ease your mind but I cannot. The fact of the matter is that no one really cares about you but yourself. People will enter your life but how many will remain? How many truly want to be there and how many will fight to be a part of your life despite everything? I doubt there are many, if any.

So while we cling to the materialism of this world to fill the void of companionship or love, no matter what happens we will leave this world as we entered it… alone and possibly crying for how little we achieved and how quickly we will be forgotten.

The Unexpected

Today I was told, in the midst of learning the technique required to perform a gynaecological exam, that I was to place my middle finger into the rectum of the dummy upon which we were practising.  You could not begin to imagine the shock that contorted the faces of the 7 to 8 other students who were attending the practical. What was more surprising was the ease and nonchalance by which the doctor announced this to us.

It was so… unexpected. Of course we all expected that we would have to place our fingers into the vagina, but the rectum? You have got to be kidding me! After the shock wore off I found my mind drifting. I know you must be wondering how on earth it is possible to encounter profound musings while having one’s fingers in the rectum of a dummy. Well guess what? It is possible!

How often do we find ourselves in situations we never expected? We all live our lives in a bubble of sorts; drifting in space, now and again merging with other bubbles containing other people and very rarely we find ourselves thrown against a sharp object and “pop!” we go crashing to the earth. It is these rare, unexpected moments that leave you either feeling a sense of euphoria or makes you feel as though you have something stuck up your backside, which in the case of the gynaecological exam would be apt.

So many times I have encountered friends who build up extensive checklists of all the traits that they expect their husbands to have and all too often do I find myself at their weddings only to discover that the person they marry is polar opposites of what they envisioned. Whenever I ask what changed I always get the same vague, elusive answer, “It just happened”.  What just happened? Did you finally realise that no man could ever fulfil that rather ridiculous checklist? Did you discover that you needed to act fast or end up alone forever? Or did it just click? Did the unexpected come sweeping in and lift you off your feet? Did life show you that the last person you would imagine as your future is actually more suited for you than any other?

I just don't know! It frustrates me when I get that answer. How do things just happen? There has got to be some power greater than ourselves out there that brings two people together- especially the most unexpected people. We can't exactly plan for it to happen but when the unexpected comes knocking at your door, be prepared, for life as you know it is about to change.

Whether it is for the good or bad is questionable but life can't stay stagnant. It needs to be in motion, ever changing. We live in a state of becoming and never simply being – though that is a topic best left for another day.

Though I have just been rambling on endlessly for the past few minutes I think it is quite clear that we have to be prepared for the unexpected (a paradox all on its own). Whether it is a finger up the other hole while lying in the lithotomy position or finding yourself being a stay home mom when all your life you wanted to be a dancer. The unexpected should be taken with a pinch of salt and if that isn’t good enough… perhaps some tequila and lime might help too. 

The Beast

Today was a sad day.

As I delved into the darkness and insecurities that dwelled inside of me, I realised that the beast inside was far more fearsome than any beast or monster I may face with out.

Equipped with sword or firearm, I could overcome anything placed in my path with ease. However, it is without weapons that I must face this beast.

It feeds off my insecurities, which brings me to another point – why am I insecure? Why should I fear that which I do not know or feel threatened by those who have become but matters of the past? What I don't know scares me far more than anything I do. What makes it worse is the fear that much will come to pass but will remain hidden from view. When it does rear its ugly head, as it eventually will, the insecurities harboured deep within will come rushing out to feed the beast already growing stronger.

In order to be prepared for this eventuality, I need to understand the beast, to study its strengths and weaknesses and understand how I can overcome it should the need arise. This beast however has eluded my scrutiny, burrowing into the darkest recesses of my soul till all that I can feel of its presence is the sonorous boom of its heartbeat echoing within. I shudder as I realise how strong its heart is.

It has grown since last I fought it, tooth and nail. I thought I had destroyed it in my younger days. Foolhardy and arrogant I decided to face down the demon with all the strength of ignorance. Back then, it took the form of death and heartbreak and though the battle was long and bloody, I came out victorious. The victory was barely one to boast about for I spent far too long licking the wounds to enjoy the bounties.

Years later, I now sit with a similar problem but am far wiser.  I know not to attack the beast without a strategy and the best strategy is to cut off its supplies. To weaken the creature would mean to weaken its defences making it far easier to deal a deadly strike. In order to accomplish this I must overcome my insecurities, but how can I do that so easily? When everything in my life is so uncertain and hangs on a thread which can only hold out for 5 more months, how do I quell the fear?

I don't know how to deal with the fear without a move from the other side. My insecurities are fuelled by the uncertainties of others. Should one person chose to step up, stake a claim and remove my fears, the beast would be so weakened that it would be inhumane to kill it.

So I must wait. I must hang precariously above the maw of the ravenous beast as I lay my fate in the hands of one who is so uncertain that I might end up devoured.

Do unto others

During my winter vacation I found myself questioning my mere existence and that of my role in the community and fostering Ubuntu. Yes, I know you must be wondering, “Wow! Is this what people think about during their holidays? Such profound musings!” However, I was actually at a youth development camp when this occurred.

Sitting in the front of a talk entitled “Ubuntu, Suhba & its relevance to a 21st century minority Muslim community” the speaker, Rashaad Amra, asked a very interesting question. He described his journey to the venue and commented on his consumption of a cup of coffee that was probably manufactured through the existing slave trade in Africa. He proceeded to ask us the question “Why should you care?” For what reason should we care for the emaciated African child who is captured, locked up and worked to death to create the coffee that we consume?

I remember sitting in silence, totally confounded by this question. Sure there are tons of adequate and “respectable” replies that one could give to this question but the moment he opened the floor to suggestions I found myself hitting a blank wall. Why should I care? Of course I care if someone is being tortured on a regular basis to create something for us to eat or wear but what is the reason as to why I care?

All my life I lived with the notion that we should do unto others what we would do unto ourselves. I always believed that this was a very good way to live one’s life and that it was both mutually beneficial and actually did a great deal of good. As I read these statements I realise how hollow those sentiments actually are. Nevertheless, in my ignorance I raised my hand and shared the idea. To my utter horror I was told that of course if I choose to live my life that way it is fine, but how selfish is that statement. My features contorted into absolute despair and seeing the look on my face he proceeded to explain why he called me selfish.

Essentially what that statement says is that we want to be treated in a specific way and because we want that level of treatment we will treat others as such in order to obtain it. Basically, all we are thinking about is ourselves. I am sure as you read this you are probably thinking how obvious that is and how silly I must have ever been to believe otherwise but I have truly and honestly lived my life with the ardent belief that this was a fair enough way to live my life. I believed I was doing good to others and that this reasoning was sound and sure.

With everything I believed flipped upside down and inside out, I sat crestfallen as I began to re-evaluate my mere reason for being. I've always been the kind of person who would answer “end world hunger” when asked what I would like to do with my life. I don’t care much for the prestige and money that accompanies my degree but rather the level of help and change I can achieve with it. My primary reason for existence, I believe, is to make a difference in as many lives as possible but without a reason for wanting to do it, what is my motivation and drive?

The way we treat those around us as well as the way we treat those we don’t know through the things we indulge in and contribute toward, determines the state in which we will leave this world. Will we leave it having done something meaningful? It isn’t about getting your name out there and getting people to recognise you but rather about making a recognisable change in the lives of others without other people knowing. For truly the best deeds are those done in darkness.

Our reason for wanting to do good, for wanting to help others, should not be for the betterment of ourselves but for the betterment of others. Many of us are blessed with wealth and fortune whereas an even greater amount of us are not. The reasoning is simple. Will we use the tools we have gained to make the lives of others better simply because we can? How do we live with ourselves, on our high horses, when so many skulls are crushed beneath the hooves?

Being forced to re-evaluate your existence is actually a very eye-opening experience and one I hope to further share with the minority of people who frequent this blog. While I still search for the absolute reason as to why I should strive for the attainment of Ubuntu, I will always look back at this experience and be thankful. Had I not been questioned I would never have realised the selfish ideals I had made the foundation of my existence.

Ramadhaan in a Farm (A Memoir)

This year marks the first year I have spent Ramadhaan (the holy month of fasting) on my own. No mother to look after me, no sweet boarding lady to cook my meals and wake me up before dawn to eat. I am on my own and I can’t help but look back at the moments in the past that are no longer realities but memories to return to in moments of nostalgia.

When reading the title of this post I’m almost 100% sure your mind will conjure up pictures of cows being milked, hens pecking and scratching around in a coop and perhaps a goat or sheep or two roaming around in the pastures. While that adequately sums up the idea of a farm, that isn’t quite the image I was going for. Sure you find cows patiently awaiting their turn to cross the roads as well as see the occasional goat race up the mountain-side; Ladysmith is by no means a farm. Many a city rat will scorn at the idea of Ladysmith even being classified as a town. Hence, I refer to it as a farm, as many an ignorant city lover would.

My earliest memories of this time of the year is of my little brother sneaking steak pies into the pantry of the kitchen and eating them in secret all the while pretending to be abstaining from food. He would walk out with crumbs down his top and continue to insist upon the authenticity of his fast to the utter horror of my parents. Every year without fail we all look back at this moment and laugh as he remains adamant in his belief of my parents’ ignorance with regard to his actions.

Sehri time saw my father lining up 5 bowls as he painstakingly made Pronutro for each of his 5 daughters to their exact specifications as my brothers still struggled to get out of their blankets. The funniest days would see my father running down the hallway in a panic exclaiming we only have 5 minutes to eat and so we would find ourselves eating whatever we could find in our haste to fill our empty stomachs. With one bathroom shared amongst 8 siblings the struggle for the chance to brush your teeth before praying always saw the person who gobbled down their food fast enough as the winner. If you were lucky, someone would have woken up on the right side of the bed (which was almost never) and offered you the chance to share the sink.

I remember waking up on weekends with the house filled with the sounds of the pots clattering, utensils falling around the kitchen and on the oft occasion, the sound of glass breaking accompanied by my mother’s muffled halaal version of the curse “shit”. Waking up to the smell of chicken or mince filling sizzling on the stove was pure agony for the grumbling abdomen and worse was when mum lined us all up to help her prepare. The food so tempting yet time said no to even a taste. Each of us had a duty: one to fill the pies, one to seal, one to dip in egg, one to roll in breadcrumbs and one to fry. Till today I puzzle at how this can be achieved without five daughters as unpaid labour. Many times we would sit in our room conspiring as to how we would get out of helping mummy to no avail- she was always one step ahead.

Iftaar time, of course, is my favourite time in Ramadhaan. In Ladysmith, the experience is of a different kind. All the men who attend mosque carry food from their homes and a bring-and-share iftaar is the order of everyday. As most every second person in town is a tea addict, every day someone is tasked with bringing two huge pots of brewed tea to the musjid. Up until last year it was the job of my late cousin to carry the pots to the musjid. My father and brothers were tasked with delivering the fried chips. I remember the smell as it wafted into the house on the days they were running late. The constant rush to find containers to carry their samosas and pies was a constant source of amusement. With so many children, and an equally large number of containers, it was no surprise that many found themselves lidless by this time of year resulting in new containers being purchased every year.

The calm that followed the breaking of the fast at sunset is incomparable. Sitting out in the driveway waiting for the Azaan was my favourite part of the day. The moment when the entire world held its breath and the sun slowly began its descent behind the hills and the collective sigh that followed as the call of “Allahu Akbar” spread through the town, still leaves me breathless.

The pure tranquillity of this month has only grown. Though this year I spend this time without the bustle, only preparing food for two and generally spending my late nights without the sweet dessert of my mother’s, the peace and overall beauty of this month will not be lost.

Although I no longer have the sound of the Azaan to fill my heart with joy, I have found a new way to find happiness. I have spent the last two mornings walking along the beach and have been blessed with the chance to see the sun rise. Truly, with this month being the peak of all blessings I found myself taken aback by the sheer beauty I chanced upon two mornings ago. Perhaps this picture could sum up the peace and harmony that strums through my heart at the onset of this month and perhaps you too may have the chance to revel in the beauty of it.