a fond adieu...

Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I can write about a person taken from us way too soon. A person who stood up for justice. Tonight I can write about a son. A brother. But most of all, a friend. He was kind. He was intelligent. He was humane. He was unwavering in his cries for our rights. And they killed him.

Tonight I write about the first time I met Yameen. It was during the blogosphere days. I was in college back then and his writings always irked my curiosity. It was how I knew him for the longest time until I met him in person much later. I was meeting with some friends for a coffee and they brought their friends. I always hated when people did that, but I had to play nice. Rilwan was there too. It was the first time I met him in person as well. We discussed how we could make Maldives a better place. We even agreed we could run the country better and had a fun time assigning ministries to all of us. As much as I hated meeting all those strangers at first, I had a fun night. Looking back, I am glad I didn't bail out at the thought of strangers, for they became my friends.

And then the message yesterday more than 20 days ago. Truly, we belong to Allah and unto Him we return!

I don't know how many times I tried to write this post but stopped. How hard it is to put grief into words. How hard it is knowing I would never see him again. There are so many things on my mind I cannot simply write here.

I have always been the first to say condemning an action is not enough. That prayers aren't enough. But tonight, I'm reduced to just venting on here. But no, I am not here to mourn his death. No, sir! That would give too much satisfaction to all the cowards who try to silence his voice. I would rather celebrate his life.

Tonight I want to celebrate his witty sarcastic humor and his never-ending argument with me about British English and American English. We had our disagreements on other issues beyond the best and most complete form of English. But I always respected his principles and his logic. I respected his ability to argue on both sides of issues while remaining impartial. As a friend once told me, his was a beautiful mind. Too bad some can never see past their own dogma.

I would never forget this one incident. We were having dinner at a friend's. While the rest of us sat and rested after a delicious feast, he went to wash the dishes after eating. He was extremely nice like that. I can go on citing various anecdotes about all the things he taught me, but I want to keep those for myself. All I can say is, he changed my views about a few things. I definitely learned from him.

Tonight I want to make a confession. Hey man. I never went to see your face at your funeral. However, I was there when they buried you. I didn't want to see your lifeless body. I hope you'll forgive me for wanting to remember you as the last time we met. It is very selfish of me to remember your face so full of life and smiling. Oh and before I forget, you never called me back about our coffee. You better be ready when we meet again.

So...thank you, my friend. My brother. And fare thee well. It breaks the heart of me to know you're not here. You were one of the very few who stood up for others without a personal agenda. You may have left us, but your voice will live on through us. By silencing you, those cowards have immortalized you. I know nothing can undo the injustice of losing you. And it angers me that you'd wish nothing but a just and fair trial even for the people who ended your life. It humbles me to know you'd still not change your principles after what happened to you. You always valued human life. You were the bravest of us all. When everyone else fled the country in fear for their life, you stayed back. And they killed you for it. This country never deserved you. Right now all I have the strength for is to say I'm a better person for having known you. The world will miss you. I will miss you. I just wish we could have had you for a lot longer than this.

To bastardize J.K. Rowling; we'll remember, if the time should come when we have to make a choice between what is right, and what is easy, we will remember what happened to a young man who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of some bullies. We will remember Yameen Rasheed.

Be Thou at Peace.

Until we meet again. Adios...

to kill a cocking roach

Last night I returned home after a night of wandering in the concrete jungle that is our capital. Tired and sweaty from climbing all the stairs because we don't have a lift even though we live on the millionth floor of a building. Anyway, no sooner had I gone into my room and closed the door, I thought I heard a faint twitch. But the sound of my labored breathing was louder and I paid no heed. I went over to the closet to wear something more comfortable and there was the twitching again! Only this time, I heard it. The twitching continued and it was louder. I didn't need to turn around to know what it was lurking in my room. However, I did turn and there it was: all my fears in the form of cockroach! It was huge! 2 inches and on the wall beating its wing. Mocking me.

ello governer, where's joe?

Now..if you've known me, you'd know I have a phobia of cockroaches and it's not something I'm ashamed of admitting. Barely thinking, I did what any brave person would do. After all, one is only brave when one is truly afraid. I dashed out of my room! As the door closed behind me, I heard the behemoth of a cockroach, which was the size of a fist, fly onto the adjacent wall. I ran to check the supplies under the sink to check for any weapon I could use against this uninvited guest. If you've watched any horror movie, you'd know what I would find once I opened the sink cabinet: absolutely nothing. We had run out of insecticide! As luck would have it, I found a stain remover and figured it was better than nothing.

I grabbed a broom with my free hand and went to my room which has become a dungeon of doom where nothing but death awaited. Death for the cockroach..I hoped. I carefully opened the door and the cockroach was flying around the room. Flying from one wall onto the other. As if it could sense the impending battle. I tried to walk to the middle of the room to see if I could get a shot at this pesky roach, but the walls were too faraway as the stain remover had a very short range. I'm pretty sure the roach knew I couldn't kill it without getting close and kept on flying shamelessly over my head but never getting close enough for me to get a clear shot. I did what any sane person would do. I ran out of the room again.

#@!*$&% again???!!

I rechecked all the cabinets in the kitchen to see if I could have missed something. Alas. Luck was not with me this night. I slowly walked to my room and opened the door. And the cockroach, this imbecile of an insect, was on the wall. Watching my every move. It was time for Plan B. I woke up my designated roach killer, The roach killer is normally Plan A but I didn't want to wake the killer. So I made all kinds of noises and cat calls until the roach killer finally awakened. I showed the roach which was now sitting on the wall near the headboard of the bed. The roach killer looked at the cockroach and went back to sleep. Exasperated at how the killer could chose to ignore a cockroach the size of a chicken, I looked up to the heavens and the cockroach was there too! I ran out of the room again and I looked into the next room. I saw a faint light. Could it be? Hope?

I peered inside and I saw my brother in law, probably conversing with his better half on his handheld telephone via text messaging. The following conversation took place between us -

Me: Hello.

Bil: Hey bro!

Me: It's me from the other room.

Bil: What's up?

Me: I was wondering if you were free to kill a roach for me

Bil: Where's the roach killer?

Me: I must have called a thousand times.

Bil: OK Bro! Let me help you.

So together, we went back into my room and I told him the only way to kill the enemy, a giant cockroach the size of a small goat, which was dancing in my room: knock it down and drown it in stain remover. Knock and spray! We repeated. Knock and spray! I slowly backed towards the door and watched. Nervous, I watched Bil face the cockroach. Prepared to abandon ship and runaway should things take a turn for the worse.

Bil tried to hit it and missed! The cockroach was fast! He tried again. Missed again. The third time Bil changed tactic and tried to whack the roach like a baseball, because who could miss hitting a flying cockroach the size of a grown man? Alas! Bil was too slow for the cockroach evaded the attack again. But then, something the cockroach did not intend happened.

It flew into the fan and there, on the sharp blades of my KDK ceiling fan, met its doom. The blade cut the cockroach cleanly in half. I ran to the center of the room and there it was.

not so mighty now, eh??

One half of it was near the bed. I thanked Bil and bade him farewell and went to search for the other half of the roach. I walked along the wall and found the remaining half. One of its legs was moving still. How scary to be cut in half and still be alive! I took the broom and bravely swept the cockroach away. And just like that, my room was free again, all thanks to my ceiling fan and my brave Bil.

Please go to Sun Front (majeedhee magu) and buy a fan if you're afraid of cockroaches like me and want to do all you can to defend against cockroaches. I have the larger model. Costs around 900 Rufiyaa. You can thank me by passing this message.

Until next time. Adios...

a letter of apology to mohamed ibthihaal

(Author's note: If you haven't heard about the incident please have a look here)

Dear Mohamed Ibthihaal,

It is with great regret I inform you that we have failed you as a society. We're deeply saddened by the brutal incident and would like to point out the deepest disappointment in our own selves at the time of this heartbreaking murder. Please do not despair or think your death went unnoticed, because the nation collectively condemns, in the harshest of words, your inhumane death.

Ibthihaal. I'm sorry your picture is plastered on every newspaper and every news outlet today so that we can all feel good by feeling bad about our own negligence. Only through such sensationalisation are we able to keep our focus on a single event. Having said that, I'm sorry that we would soon forget you and your death would just be a number in the myriads of manslaughters in this nation.

I'm sorry, Ibthihaal, that we as a society do not concern ourselves with the wellbeing of others. It's not like we knew your mother was abusing you for the past 3 years. I'm sorry, but, as a society, we don't look at children born out of wedlock as part of the community. I'm sorry that we look at such children as a bad omen and would like to keep our own safe from you. As such, we chose to ignore you because you didn't really belong to our close-knit family in the island. I'm sorry that we punish children for the sins of their parents. I'm sorry that we see you for nothing less than the sinful spawn of two adulterers. On that note, I'm also sorry that we could not identify who your father was. I'm sorry we live in a system where only his confession would have confirmed him your father as four grown men didn't see him fornicate with your mother, whose word, by the way, holds no meaning in court.

Ibthihaal, you don't know me but I'm sorry, because even if we cared, we live in a system that does not allow preemptive action. I'm sorry we live in a society that's content with letting child abusers and pedophiles walk free because, one: it's not our child and two: we don't have evidence. We are sorry but please understand that we can't really take the words of a child against an adult, and in some cases, their blood relatives. Sometimes, even their own parents. I'm sorry you didn't grow up to be an adult, because if so, you would be able to have solace in the fact that there are many others like you who grew up bruised, battered, and molested. Because, by then, you would realize, and I am very embarrassed to say this, that you weren't the first child we failed.

I'm sorry that everyone of us will use your image and your story to further our agenda. I'm sorry that even though we will likely find people who were accomplices to your murder through negligence, we will not address the root cause of this issue. I'm sorry that none of the policy makers, the grassroots, or even taxpayers would find the need to address such issues during political debates, unless it has something to do with overthrowing the person in power. However, it is with great pleasure I inform you, that we will find a scapegoat for your death and we will punish all parties involved directly. Then, I'm afraid and I'm really sorry to say this, we will sweep this issue under the rug.

i'm sorry that even though we feel sad, we'll forget everything about you very soon

I'm sorry...I'm sorry you didn't grow up to enjoy life to the fullest. Please be rest assured that you did indeed have a wonderful future ahead of you such as education, sports, friends, and most importantly, a life. I'm sorry we failed in our duties but we hope you understand and forgive us because we had bigger issues at hand. One as young as you wouldn't understand the consequences of music shows, political rivalries, or the importance of promoting xenophobia even at the cost of overlooking the current cancers in our society. I'm sorry we were too busy swimming in our own pile of hypocrisy and I'm sorry the only solace our religious clerics could offer you is the dangers of fornication to a society.

Mohamed Ibthihaal, I sincerely hope that you accept our deepest apologies because your death would be in vain and we would do nothing besides angry/sad posts on social media or pass pictures of you around and, as I noted earlier, feel good by feeling bad about you.

I'm sorry.

Very Respectfully,

The Republic of Maldives

a fond adieu...

I don't normally write posts for others. I don't even dedicate posts to others. Why? Because it is my blog. However, today's post is dedicated to a very special lady. She has been with me throughout the majority of my existence. She is the one woman who made me cry before I saw her. The one woman who has, thus far, spanked me. And the only person, I know, who used chili as a motivator. And this is the story of how I met her...

I remember it as if it was yesterday. I was 4 years old and free as a bird can be. My mom entered the room. Beaming at me as if she had gotten me a gift. Just like any other kid, my gift-senses started tingling and I ran to my mom to hear the good news, or more importantly, to get the booty she got for me. However, she had other plans. No booty was to be had by me. On the contrary, the seemingly 'good' news she had for me was that (as it's in our culture when we start going to kindergarten) she got me into a class, rather a house, that taught Quran. My reaction? I started crying. Crying as if the world has ended. I felt the horizon close in on me. I can proudly say I didn't throw much tantrums as a kid, but on that day, a tantrum I threw. And it was one hell of a kind! I threw things at my mom. I sat on the floor and stomped my feet. I cried big fat tears. Not the crocodile tears, but frickin huge Oh-God-what-did-I-ever-do-to-deserve-this tears! My mom, as calm as a praying mantis on acid, just laid down on the floor beside me and stayed silent through the ordeal.

Of course, I lost the war and ended up going to the house. And God, did she scare me! It felt like a jail to me. I take it back. A jail would be better. She kept a stick on one side and one mean looking chili on the other side. I am not talking about a plain chili. No. It was the Mother of all chilies. It was the unholy offspring of Satan, himself. It was huge, red, and mean! Anyway, she never used it on anyone, but it was scary as hell. But the stick, she did use. And use it on me she did. I didn't study the lesson for that day and she spanked me. I think I got about 10 hits. It did not hurt but the humiliation was unrelenting. It did, however, teach me to study my lesson. And she held the record as the only female to have hit me for more than 18 years until my classmate from college punched me for calling her a lesbian.

Soon, I got used to the whole thing and I grew up to be her favorite student. I made great friends and going to the class soon became my favorite part of the day! Even long after I 'graduated' from the class, I visit from time to time to see her and she would get all mushy touchy dovey with me. I will never forget the way her face lit up every time I went to visit her. She would always greet with my a motherly smile and pat my back as if I were her own. She would hold my hand and never let go as she barraged me with questions. About studies, about job, and about life. I remember our last meeting. It was the ninth of November 2012, some 20 odd years after our first encounter. She had been so sick lately that she could barely recognize me. Once I told her I was her favorite student, she smiled at me. She showed me in and we went and I sat down beside her. Once again, I faced the inquirous blitzkrieg (by now I have learned to answer those questions short and sweet). She asked about my job and told me what little stories she remembered from when I was a student. The best part was that whenever one of her children, grandchildren, or even someone else came, she would introduce me and say that I was her student. She showed me off as a trophy. When it was turn to bid her goodbye, she held my hand, looked me in the eyes and her eyes full of tears and yet smiling, she says, 'Do come again.' And it struck me; she never said a proper goodbye. There were no farewells with her, no goodbyes. Just a promise, a plea to see her again.

And then the phone call last night. She had passed away. Truly, we belong to Allah and unto Him we return!

I write this post, not to mourn her passing away, but to celebrate her life. So here is to a lady, who has dedicated her life to educate others. A lady who gave back to the world more than the world cared to give her. I hope that, one day, I can become even half the person you are. To bastardize George Bernard Shaw's quote, life was no 'brief candle' to you, and you burned the splendid torch that is your life, as bright as you could, before you handed it on to future generations.  Here is to a great mentor and a great educator. AND A FUCKING AWESOME HUMAN BEING!!!  I will never forget what you taught me and I will always treasure your words and your wisdom. It was a pleasure being your student and an even more pleasure knowing you as a person, away from your stick and chili. I am a better person for having known you. The world will miss you. I will miss you. Your memories and your words will live forever in my heart and I shall remember you in this world and the next.

The following words are from the West Point Alma Mater and it is the least I could do to honor you...

And when our work is done,
Our course on Earth is run,
May it be said, 'Well Done;
Be Thou At Peace.'

Until we meet again. Adios...