Final Write up 27 August 2021

SABR (Patience)

Introduction

In the Islamic month of Ramadaan1443, the Gregorian year 2021, I was asked to give a talk at one of our Ladies Ramadaan Thikr programmes. I  was surprised when my dear friend and mentor said she had chosen this topic for me because, it is evident that I have been through many extraordinary things in my life which must have taught me sabr.  I was surprised because patience and constancy has always been difficult for me, so I relished the thought that perhaps it will give me additional perspective and impetus in my personal strife towards the virtuous practice of patience. I am writing this up some months after my original talk, mainly because I was chatting to someone and I wanted to reference some aspects of the talk and realised that it may be better if I wrote it down. The process of the write-up has been profound and enlightening. Thoughts and clarifications filtered through my mind as I plodded through the process of checking my notes, references and writing, writing, writing…   Also though the process, I am experiencing many tests of sabr almost daily, so it must be understood that everything I write in this article is addressed more to myself than to you, the reader, for whom I naturally wish the highest benefit and inspiration from this.

Sabr is mentioned 102 times in the Quran and there are numerous hadith on its virtues. It is a word mentioned frequently by Muslims and the volumes that can be written about it cannot be captured in a thousand pages.  This is merely a cursory examination of its basis and expositions,  using personal experiences to illustrate my own application of them.

Sabr and the Aloe Plant

We generally understand ‘sabr’ to mean endurance and perseverance in the face of difficulties such as illness and disease, death of loved ones and the ever present impact of COVID on our lives.  The one thing that all of these ‘calamities’ have in common is that they are beyond our control.

I came across two interesting articles on the internet that explored the root word of sabr  to the cactus plant.  According to Faisal Amjad in his article on the “The Real Meaning of Sabr,[1] historically, word Sabr is derived from the Aloe Vera plant shoot, (known as sabbar or sibr) which grows natively in the desert. What the aloe plant is known for, other than its healing qualities, is its ability to sustain drought and heat in the harsh climate of the desert. In particular, the way it withstands these harsh conditions to force its way to grow tall and strong against the odds, whether in heat or cold, in sand or through hard ground, it will always find a way to grow and needs very little maintenance and watering. And when it does grow and is used for its purpose, it has an absolute abundance of beneficial functions. For example, it can cool burns, help with allergies, condition hair, it can protect skin and detoxify the body, it has anti-inflammatory and anti-viral properties and can heal wounds, stimulate cell regeneration and be used as toothpaste or mouthwash. What’s more, it can even promote blood circulation and lower cholesterol when you drink it  as a juice.

Like the cactus, sabr is not passive, Amira Ayad writes. ‘Sabr does not helplessly wait for conditions to change or for water to pour down from the sky. Rather it digs its roots firmly into the ground and stubbornly reaches for those underground invisible streams; it toughens its skin and faces the desert harshness with determination and fortitude; it saves water for the rough days and perseveres when the sustenance is scarce. Sabr is an active engagement in life, it honours the struggle, the  grit, the pursuit, it is motivating and empowering.[2]

Subhan’ALLAH. The profundity of this allegory is an acknowledgement of the impeccable completeness of the Divine message and the perfection of the meaning of multiple concepts in just one word.

Life will always be hard. Conditions will never be perfect. In fact it may only get more difficult, but the only relevant questions you need to ask yourself are what is your purpose and what value are you providing? Practising Sabr, like the aloe vera plant, will always result in growth, even if it doesn’t feel like it. If you’re not growing, you’re dying. Inspired by the aloe vera plant, as human beings we strive to always persevere, fight and stand tall, in an active and positive way, in order to achieve our purpose of serving and always always, always providing value to others in the service of ALLAH ﷻ.

The following the hadith was narrated by Abu S’id Khudri in Bukhari and Muslim:

“Whoever practices Sabr, Allah Subhanahu wa Ta’ala gives him Sabr . And no one can be given anything better or more far-reaching (comprehensive) than Sabr.”

The deconstruction of this could result in a thesis. For the less trained like myself, the first most obvious yet hidden facet lies in the second word, the verb “practices”. Although there are many other aspects that are relevant  to word ‘practice’, as a verb it means the exercise of repeating or rehearsing something with the objective of becoming more proficient at it.  It reminds me of my early days as a young lawyer when my beloved father, my mentor and Imaam, (May ALLAH be pleased with him and grant him afford him the highest honour amongst the Saliheen), said to me in his usual jovial and sometimes provocative way, “So you’re practicing as a lawyer now, when are you going to get it right?”.

We are being told to practice sabr actively, get better at it and hopefully get it right one day. The noun ‘practice’ also finds obvious meaning here – habit, custom, routine).  Hence the hadith enjoins both the act of rehearsing and repeating this action of sabr until it becomes habitual or routine.

Constancy inevitably goes with patience.

By the Token of time (through the ages), Verily Man is in loss,

Except such who have faith, and do righteous deeds, and (join together) in mutual teaching of Truth and of Patience and Constancy. Surah Al Asr 103:

The more we practice sabr the more we develop it into a continuous habit. The surah also refers to the collective efforts to support and remind each other to be patient and constant. ALLAH ﷻ in HIS infinite wisdom and mercy is telling us that HE knows how difficult it is to practice this sabr – so HE enjoins us to help each other, teach each other this patience and constancy.

Complimentary quality of TRUST

The stepping stones to honing the practice of sabr are to be found in other complimentary qualities which HE  جل جلاله enjoins upon us.

Trust in ALLAH ﷻ and gratitude to Him Most affectionate, Most merciful are seminal qualities that should permeate the consciousness of every believer. Trust includes the total acceptance that ALLAH ﷻ knows what is in the highest interest of every creation in existence. HIS love is complete and irresistible. HIS mercy is in every situation.

It includes a firm belief that the good and the bad are both to our benefit yet we perceive it not. The hardship we experience may seem insurmountable at the time but ALLAH ﷻ in HIS infinite mercy gives us the best of the bad scenarios we could potentially face in any give situation. Some scholars explain that the good is from ALLAH ﷻ and the bad are the inevitable consequences of our own actions. Even if we are the architects of our hardships, ALLAH ﷻ makes those hardships the least difficult for us.

One of the areas where we are expected to exercise sabr is when we make a dua and ALLAH ﷻ does not answer it. There are reasons given by the scholars but the relevant ones for the purpose of understanding sabr are as follows:

• ALLAH ﷻ knows what you’re asking for is not good for you. It may cause you pain and suffering in your life or take you away from your belief and weaken your Imaan.  For e.g. not answering a dua to marry a certain person.  HE saves you by not giving you what you want as that marriage could bring you pain and suffering or even weaken your belief.
• ALLAH ﷻ has something better in store for you in the Aaghirah and withholds from you because HE ﷻ chooses to reward you with something which is way better.
• Your Dua is delayed because HE wants you to be consistently making the dua which brings you closer to HIM and wants you to continue getting closer and continuing to ask HIM and HE also delays it for the time that it is better for you. The Noble Prophet (SWA) said:

“The (dua’a) of anyone of you maybe answered( by Allah) as long as he does show impatience by saying, “ I prayed to Allah but my prayers have not been answered.” (Al-Bukhari).

• He is testing you. Rasollullah (SWA) said if ALLAH ﷻ loves someone He will test them – by not getting relief from your condition it may be that you are being tested and being drawn closer to ALLAH ﷻ

It can be summarized in 3 lines:

1. Yes
2. Yes but not right now
3. I have a better plan for you

The Messenger of Allah said:

“Any Muslim who makes a supplication containing nothing which is sinful, or which involves breaking ties of relationship, will be given for it by Allah one of three things:

1. He will give him swift answer,
2. or store it up for him in the next world,
3. or turn away from him an equivalent amount of evil.”

Often, we perceive something as bad at the time, but in fact it’s in our best interest and we only discover it later.  For instance, our family was thinking about renting out a shop in a nearby shopping centre to start a fast food establishment and were turned down by the managers. Our disappointment turned to utter relief when 2 months later the world was hit by COVID and the country went into level 5 lockdown, resulting in the tragic closure of many small and even big businesses. The refusal, which could have been seen as a torment at the time turned out to be an enormous gift and blessing. Trusting ALLAH’s grace at the point of the hardship is the true test of the level of one’s belief. If one is satisfied and trusts that ALLAH truly knows best, instead of bemoaning one’s fate, blaming others or worse blaming ALLAH, the journey to Ihsaan is accelerated. Ihsaan is to worship ALLAH as if we see HIM.

Muslims try to worship God as if they see Him, and although they cannot see him, they undoubtedly believe that He is constantly watching over them. (Al-Bukhari and Al-Muslim).

Pain and illness

Pain and illness requires much practice of sabr. The healthiest amongst us fall prey to unexpected illness, disease, and injury.   The trust in HIS Mercy  as the disposer of all our affairs can be borne more easily if we accept it as a gift instead of a curse.  The gift  of cleansing, purification and expiation.

“A Muslim does not suffer any mental or physical anguish, or any distress, grief, pain or sorrow – even from the prick of a thorn – except that Allah expiates his mistakes and sins.” Bukhari and Muslim

Every pain and anguish we suffer has a reward. It cleanses us of our sins, and like bad-tasting medicine or painful procedures, it eventually leads to healing. Our pain is the gift from ALLAH of spiritual cleansing and purification. You only reap its benefits after enduring the hardship.  With pain comes expiation, and submission to it increases acceptance in one’s heart of ALLAH’S hand in it. Muslims are forbidden from killing in mercy, to kill someone to spare them from pain would be robbing them of ALLAH’s gift of mercy, purification and expiation. My 24 year old nephew had congenital kidney failure and has been spending the better part of his life on dialysis. He has had two kidney transplants, one of which was successful for 11 years of his life  and the other which his body rejected almost immediately after the transplant. He lives in and out of hospital and it is indeed painful for all of us to witness, despite his incredible acceptance of his condition.  The only tool with which we navigate such anguish is the absolute knowledge that his reward must be as tremendous as his pain. A treasured gift  that he himself seems to have accepted.

Complimentary Quality of GRATITUDE

Another complimentary quality of Sabr is Shukr /Gratitude.

Although as human beings we often forget that we should be thankful for everything  – for the air that we breathe, our sight, hearing, the love of our family, the roofs over our heads, the excellent food we eat etc. Although we’re not nearly as grateful as we should be for the good, we are even less thankful for the bad.  In fact we often struggle to endure bad things that happen to us. At  the very first level of taqwa we should remain steadfast and patient in the face of difficulties and hardships. This is almost a passive sabr. To move into the realm of active sabr we aspire to the level of Ihsaan. At the higher level of the practice of sabr, we may even become thankful if not content with whatever Allah sends down to us because we trust in the knowledge and wisdom of ALLAH ﷻ, that HE knows what is best for us. If HE gives us unpleasant medicine, it is only to heal us or to shield us from worse or to deposit into our aagirah account rewards which will benefit us when we need it the most.

Another wonderful consequence of experiencing trouble and hardship is that when it’s over, and things are back to ‘normal’, it makes ‘normal’ feel wonderful and serves as a reminder to be ever so thankful for what we normally take for granted.

“Whatever happens in your life, no matter how troubling things might seem, do not enter the neighbourhood of despair. Even when all doors remain closed, Allah will open up a new path only for you. Be thankful! It is easy to be thankful when all is well. A Sufi is thankful not only for what he has been given but also for all that he has been denied.” Shams Tabrizi (The mentor of Jalaluddin Rumi)

Another kind of sabr is FORBEARANCE. To endure verbal abuse, accusations, disrespect, slander, backbiting, false assumptions, name-calling, ridicule, maligning comments, etc. from people around us because of their jealousy, misgivings, maliciousness, difference of opinion or dislike for whatever reason.

A person will be within one’s right to defend himself from any misbehavior. That is justice and everyone is entitled to it without being blamed for it. However, in a state of Ihsan the believer takes all that in stride graciously and magnanimously without responding, fighting back, paying much attention or complaining. Ihsan is the standard good Muslims are expected to strive for. The Holy Quran states:

 “The recompense for an injury is an injury equal thereto (in degree): but if a person forgives and makes reconciliation, his reward is due from Allah: for Allah loveth not those who do wrong.” Surah Ash- Sura – 42: 40:

Interestingly I heard a talk by Noman Ali Khan while writing this article.  He explained in a Tafseer about Surah Qahf that an eye for an eye, (my précise) cannot be accomplished by human beings with any degree of accuracy or perfection.  If someone slaps you and you slap them back, how would you know whether your slap was the exactly the same as the slap you received. How can you be sure that your slap was not harder? The scales of justice becomes a slippery slope. It is impossible to mete out justice or equal retribution. ALLAH ﷻ  enjoins forgiveness instead and forbids wrong doing. Surely if we try to exact equal recompense for an injury we will be privy to wrong doing as we could never measure the exact justice required.  Is this not ALLAH’S ﷻ way of saying justice is best left to HIM and forgiveness and reconciliation is best for us.

A beautiful Hadith reported by Abu Hurairah in Mishkah and Musnad Ahmad. Describes the implementation of the call to forgive and not fall into wrongdoing.

“Once, a person was verbally abusing Abu Bakr while the Prophet (Allah’s blessing and peace be upon him) was curiously watching with a smile. After taking much abuse quietly, Abu Bakr responded to a few of his comments. At this, the Prophet (Allah’s blessing and peace be upon him) exhibited his disapproval, got up and left. Abu Bakr caught up with the Prophet (Allah’s blessing and peace be upon him) and wondered, “O Messenger of Allah, he was abusing me and you remained sitting. When I responded to him, you disapproved and got up.” The Messenger of Allah (Allah’s blessing and peace be upon him) responded, “There was an angel with you responding to him. When you responded to him, Shaytan took his place.”

He then said,

“O Abu Bakr, there are three solid truths: If a person is wronged and he forbears (without seeking revenge) just for the sake of Allah Subhanahu wa Ta’ala , Allah will honor him and give him upper hand with His help; if a person opens a door of giving gifts for cementing relationships with relatives, Allah will give him abundance; and, if a person opens a door of seeking charity for himself to increase his wealth, Allah will further reduce his wealth.” Reported Our Prophet (Allah’s blessing and peace be upon him) demonstrated best of Sabr in all of the situations described above giving us a vivid picture of what a perfect and ideal Sabr looks like. The most outstanding example of Sabr in the way of Allah Subhanahu wa Ta’ala demonstrated in the face of persecutions from non-Muslims was that of our Prophet (Allah’s blessing and peace be upon him)’s 13 years in Makkah and his experience in Taif. That was humanity at its best, Sabr par excellence and Ihsan without a parallel. To prepare for this, he was admonished at the very outset of the mission.

Strength is not in how you overcome another person but in how you overcome yourself and control yourself in the time of anger and rage. Response out of a sense of pride puts shaytaan in the driver’s seat making you say what otherwise you would never say.[3] On the other hand, self-control and forbearance in the face of abuse is a noble exercise of sabr within the realm of Ihsaan.

“Those who practice Sabr will be rewarded their recompense without measure.” (Quran 39:10)

The critical elements in the practice of sabr are trust in ALLAH ﷻ, forgiveness and gratitude for HIS favours seen and unseen.

It is an active engagement in the struggles and trials of life. It also implies constant striving and improvement. The honour in that struggle lies in its constant pursuit. The culmination of constant practice results in the gradual establishment of sabr as a routine in one’s life. Actively practicing sabr, arms us, like the aloe tree, to respond to any extreme conditions with resilience, determination and strength.   We are constantly under trial and test in this world, and it is so much a part of our human existence that its always there. Yet we always try to resist or avoid its effects as if one day the tests will stop. Indeed they will, but only upon death. Until then the way to manage them is through this sacred practice of sabr.

The Messengers of ALLAH ﷻ  (Allah’s blessing and peace be upon them) have set excellent examples of this sabr. Moosa (Moses) peace be upon him demonstrated a good example of sabr on the problems caused by Bani Israil, with their nagging questions, superficial objections, foolish arguments, short-sighted suggestions, undue demands, improper expectations, lack of firm commitment, half-hearted support and weakness in obedience. To discourage repetition of that kind of behaviour, ALLAH ﷻ  commanded, “O Believers, do not be like those who abused Moosa; then Allah cleared him from what they said. And he was, in the sight of Allah, honourable.” (Quran 33:70)

“And when Moosa said to his people, ‘O my people, why do you abuse me when you surely know that I am the messenger of Allah to you?’ When they deviated, Allah caused their hearts to deviate.” (Quran 61:5)

Isa peace be upon him was the best example of those who practised sabr on the reaction of the Bani Israil (who were supposed to be and claimed to be the believers), to his call for the Islamic movement and revival. He was sent to revive Islam without bringing any new Shari’ah. So, he tried to bring them from petrified, ritualistic Islam to the true spirit of the dynamic Islam that results in the establishment of the kingdom of God and that converts every believer into a missionary for the establishment for the supremacy of the Islamic way of life, but he was rejected and persecuted. So much so that they plotted to kill him, siding with the pagan Romans.

Our Prophet (ALLAH’s blessing and peace be upon him) demonstrated best of sabr in all of the situations described above giving us a vivid picture of what a perfect and ideal sabr looks like. The most outstanding example of sabr in the way of ALLAH ﷻ   demonstrated in the face of persecutions was that of our Prophet (ALLAH’s blessing and peace be upon him)’s 13 years in Makkah and his experience in Taif, which remains etched in my heart as the seminal example of excellent character. That was humanity at its best, sabr par excellence and Ihsan without a parallel. To prepare for this, he was admonished at the very outset of the mission,

“And practice Sabr for the sake of your Lord.” (Quran 74:7)

And then he was reminded,  “Rejected were the messengers before you, and they continued to practise Sabrwhile they were being rejected and persecuted, until Our help reached them.” (Quran 6:34)

“And practice Sabr, certainly Allah does not let the reward of the Muhsinin be lost.” (Quran 11:115)

He indeed excelled in what he was commanded . The same is expected from us. Although we may not be able to reach that level of excellence, our goal is to strive towards that level.

The practice of this standard of Sabr is not possible without collective efforts of the Ummah and mutual support and reminder towards each other. Hence, it is incumbent upon believers to enjoin each other this Sabr. Without it, (according to Surah Al-‘Asr) loss is not insured, salvation is not promised and success is not assured.

With love and duas from Radia, the weakest of servants 💚

[1] https://medium.com/muslimceo/i-learned-an-interesting-thing-recently-69489ad70876

[2] http://www.amiraayad.com/my-blog/patience-versus-sabr

[3] Sheikh Omar Sulieman

Amidst a flurry of panic and mini pandemonium that surrounded a racist incident at my daughter’s high school, I found myself participating in a parent’s diversity task team that was established to address an evolving culture in a predominantly white school in the heart of the southern suburbs. I have always been an advocate for social change but this time I felt a rumbling of discomfort and a defensiveness that crept through my consciousness, insidiously threatening to spread through me like a stealthy toxin. Was I going to be subjected to a group of white people who were going to tell me and other black people (African, coloured and Indian) how NOT to be racist? Was I going to face a rhetoric of white superiority dressed in platitudes of white liberal progressiveness? With a pounding heart and nervous energy, I entered the arena and held my breath.
My fears were not realised as I encountered a mix of academic, professional, passionate ordinary people who all seemed committed to creating a better world, each in their own way, and willing to bring their truths to this new colourful melting pot of mixed talents, personalities and cultures. Having met some of these beautiful people I still felt an unease and decided to do a deep dive into my own troubled mind. At every turn, I feel compelled to stand out, to have my voice heard, to let these white people who created and dominate the group know that they dare not stereotype me as less intelligent or less anything. I realised that this baggage I had invisibly dragged around with me had suddenly surfaced. I am a product of the eighties and having been in the middle of the anti-apartheid struggle as a youth, I had undoubtedly been indoctrinated by the systemic poison of Apartheid. Having grown up in an Indian township in Gauteng under the Group areas Act, as a ‘half caste’ Cape Malay/ Indian, my narrative was defined by the systemic racism and segregation that permeated my existence at every level.

Whites were supreme and untouchable, like demi-gods, who were revered by the system and by some “non-whites” – a term seemingly denoting the state of not being something which one “ought to be”. No-one used the term non-Indian, non-coloured, or non-African. These were obviously undesired sates of being under the Apartheid system. Ironically, being non-Indian was in fact frowned upon amongst the Indians, so I guess being Indian was a desirable classification, if only to the Indians themselves.
The Group Areas Act dictated that no-one was permitted to live in an area designated for another racial group, nor travel on the same bus or use the same toilets. There was not much fuss about intermarriage between any of the “non-white” groups, but it was illegal for a white person to marry anyone of “non-white” persuasion. The government was nonetheless concerned about buying property and attending schools across the “non-white” racial lines. In Lenasia, South of Johannesburg in the old Transvaal, our little council house had to be put on my mother’s name, who was classified as Indian, because my father was classified as Cape Malay. My siblings and I were allowed in the schools because our birth certificates indicated both racial classifications.
Of course, being of mixed Indian/Malay heritage, in this milieu, I fitted in nowhere. As if the Apartheid system was not bad enough, the Indian culture was particularly snobbish and exclusive. I was regarded as a half caste and being recognised as Indian was not a particular goal I aspired to.
I was an institutional and social outsider. I watched black people being treated like they were sub-human by the Indian folk – exploited, belittled and dehumanised.
As a child, this injustice troubled me deeply and I was drawn to the liberation struggle when I grew older.

Fast-forward to 2021, after living in Cape Town for 17 years, I entered the terrain of anti-racism again. Having left the tear gas, rubber bullets and Casspirs behind me almost 3 decades ago, I felt a jolt of unrest as the buried mistrust and suspicion I had of white people started creeping up on me. Had I unwittingly become a reverse racist? Or was my institutionalised conditioning resurfacing? I realised with startling horror that I was projecting my own victimhood. All human life is sacred and everyone deserves to be treated with dignity and respect. Was I living up to this?
My purpose of serving humanity meant that I had to break all the moulds of bias, prejudice and bigotry that I had grown up with. I thought about the lived reality of African people in our country. People clutching their handbags if they pass an African person in the street, the look of disdain and scorn when a previously privileged people associates every middle-class African person with affirmative action, corruption and malfeasance. I see the look of mistrust from the African people that I pass often in Pinelands, a suburb renowned for intolerance and sometimes overt racism, where animals are afforded better “human rights” than human beings. An ex-colleague of mine, a burly African man, with a doctorate in the sciences, would often relate his experiences in this ex-colonial town of British settlers. Not even his James Earl Jones like baritone voice and appearance made his experience any easier. He was patronised, marginalised and made to feel unwelcome. If he reacted he was scorned as being arrogant and entitled. He eventually moved back to Gauteng for a better job, and maintained that African people experience less racism in Johannesburg.
I think about my own experiences. I am reminded of the arrogance I experience from males of all colours as a mixed-race Muslim woman. My racial persuasion, mild attractiveness and gender sometimes militate against the idea that I am a thinking rational human being. I will never forget my experience in a white Cabinet Minister’s office one day. It was my first meeting with him and I felt like the proverbial ‘servant girl’ who was being eyed by the ‘baas’ for services other than cleaning the house. I often get told that I do not look like a lawyer, presumably because I don’t fit the stereotype ‘suit’. Many Muslim women lawyers also don’t ordinarily wear scarves, probably because the visuals don’t match the stereotype of good lawyers, who have to fit the image if they want to make a living. Being religious and a Muslim woman in particular, elicits the stereotype of being stupid, backward and repressed. I find that when my well-developed confidence is revealed, the stereotype changes, and I become that woman – “the bitch”, the “know-it-all”. It is accompanied by disdain that a Muslim woman of colour dares to know better than anyone. Male counter-parts, particularly white males are considered tough and assertive and never “bitchy”. I drag all the baggage around with me and it weighs heavily.

I began to examine my own misgivings about being in a liberal group with many white people who may think that they know better about racism and prejudice, and spout forth their knowledge with false modesty and disguised condescension. Is it fair to put them in that box? II realised that I had felt this way every time I attended a school meeting since 2012 when my sons were at the school. Were the other black people on our diversity group having to work as hard to be recognised as equal? Perhaps they are younger and carry less baggage. Perhaps they were crossing their own Rubicons in this quagmire of social iniquity.
To my chagrin I began to unpack all the fallacies in these disturbing self-revelations. Was I not projecting my own prejudice? Was I not the one creating, if not perpetuating these awful little boxes? Am I inadvertently saying that we must show the clever white people that we are also clever? How self-deprecating. By whose standards is the Cape housewife any less that the UCT professor? I took a step back. As I saw myself slipping into the ‘prejudice’ trap, I questioned why intelligence was my trigger. The repressed Muslim woman stereotype was part of it. The other part was steeped in South African racist culture. Other race groups are seen as infinitely less intelligent than white people, particularly African people and to a lesser extent Coloureds. Indians and Orientals (Far East) are regarded as stereotypically being clever and good at maths and IT, in a myopic technical way. They are still not regarded as being equal to white people in the general sense. By trying to display my intelligence, am I buying into the Eurocentric view of intelligence and IQ? Is intelligence a valid measure for the value of any human being? I realised that in a way I was doing exactly what I was accusing my white counter-parts of doing. By trying to defend myself against biased stereotyping, I was in fact entrenching that bias. As a parent was I passing this onto my own children? If I don’t take a reality check, the rumbling that was stirring in my soul will soon grow into an uncontrolled angry roar. What would I do then? I have to quell the beast. My fight is not just against racism, but against prejudice, bias, intolerance and violence against women and children. If I am to make the fight against social injustice a worthy one, my first battle has to be against my own inadvertent micro- aggressions, assumptions and apartheid baggage. The battle for social change lies not only in changing the narrative externally but identifying and correcting the internal narrative. I felt the need to open my heart and my mind to the acceptance of human beings (including myself) with our failings. Working together with patience instead of accusation or anger. Instead of pointing fingers, influence change around me by truly living and being what I want to see in the world. If I were to cut through all the rhetoric, postulation and theories around race and prejudice, simple practices of kindness, generosity, understanding and empathy can go a long way. If everyone treated every other human being with dignity and respect without judgement, change would be automatic. In addition to our struggle for institutional, systemic and cultural change, we cannot lose sight of the internal struggle to hone people-centred values of being considerate, respectful and kind to people, even if they reject or resist with unkindness and aggression. We should be conveying that message with equal fervour.
The most poignant message for me in my struggle in the post-Apartheid milieu, is that my approach must have a good dose of introspection, wisdom and patience, both with myself and others.

With love, Always
Radia 💚

I last broached the sensitive topic of being domestic abuse and being stuck in the vicious cycle of victimhood and abuse. Today I am venturing into a discussion of abuse that is closer to home – sexual harassment, molestation and Rape, having experienced these diabolical delights.  I was groped, seduced, inappropriately touched, raped and at the age of 6, molested by an adult male relative.  I am a survivor and a victor.  I refused and still refuse to be a victim of anyone or anything.

I experienced inappropriate behaviour towards me by school boys, varsity students, and older men from the age of six until my twenties. I am convinced that most women have at some point in their lives experienced inappropriate behaviour from males, whether it was sexist talk, inappropriate innuendos, unwanted physical advances or rape and violence.

Even in the 21^st century, the archaic notion of masculine entitlement and superiority still permeates society, despite the evolution of laws which seek to level the playing field. Although in western countries women have been graciously given the right to vote as recently as a hundred years ago, the unwritten context that men have certain privileges over women still dominates the social ethos.  If men make sexual advances and innuendos are still met with the unspoken acceptance that boys will be boys and there is no real harm in it.  Its ok for men to make sexual advances because, well, women really want it. No really means yes.

The fact that men are physically stronger than women has been misinterpreted to mean that they are not only mentally superior, but have a right to dominate women. Taken a step further, it includes the right to objectify or have access to women at will.  Although sexual harassment is increasingly being challenged at the workplace, in the social scene, it is far less common. It is difficult to accuse or hold someone to account if they are friends; friends of friends or family.  The fear of causing social disruption, or being blamed or not believed is a strong deterrent against exposing harassers within a family or social circle. Women are often demonised for exposing such behaviour.  Exposure of perpetrators in social and family circles is often considered a disruption of the social order and social family circles are more comfortable pretending that there is no problem in order to preserve the peace. The woman who dares to speak out is seen as disrupting the social order and is viewed as the culprit rather than the sufferer. She often feels like breaking the silence about what she endured would expose her to the silent scorn of others. This is by no means a generalisation of the behaviour of men and women, it is, however, a phenomenon that occurs with some men, who prey on women they find attractive and whom they probably feel they will not stand a chance with unless they force their way.  Unfortunately, it is far more common than we care to admit.  Such men feel that they have an innate right to take what they want and see women as the weaker sex, just waiting for a man to stake his claim.  This has less to do with sex than with the desire to dominate and overpower.  The extreme form of such domination is rape and violence against women. Any self-respecting man, will feel too ashamed to want to impose himself on someone who did not reciprocate his feelings.  Self-respect is inevitably coupled with respect for others.  The physical strength of a man enables him to physically protect the women and children in his care.  This positive strength is only manifested if the man has the mental strength and tenacity to recognise that his physical strength gives him responsibility rather than power. Acceptance of that responsibility manifests in love, protectiveness and respect. Conversely, a man who feels powerless and like he is not worthy of love, may adversely manifest that powerlessness through domination and violence towards women. After all he is stronger and can exert his power over the woman. He most likely feels like no woman would want him because he is not lovable. He resentfully shows her who is boss and will show her his power, his prowess and his strength, none of which he actually believes he has.  The woman represents his feelings of inadequacy, which is inevitably rooted deeply in his primary experiences, leaving him feeling that rumbling feeling of not being good enough…

What about child molestation abuse and rape?  In such cases the extent of the man’s sense of inadequacy must be so intense that he chooses victims who cannot oppose him, or point a finger or even resist him in any meaningful way, because they are too young.  My molester skilfully seduced my 6-year old damaged self, knowing exactly how to prey on my childish insecurities to win my trust. When he committed the physical acts on my little body, I hardly understood what was happening and my mind was in terrible turmoil owing to the snippets I had heard about the taboo of physical contact between male and female. I believed that kissing could make me pregnant and that this man may have impregnated me although he had not even breached my tiny little hymen.   My view of men and the world was set.  He on the other hand predated on young children. They would never talk. No-one would believe them. They’d think it was their fault.  They would never tell anyone how inadequate he was. They would never know how weak and pathetic he felt, or how no-one could ever love him because he was not good enough. Because someone did this to him when he was young…

I never cared to understand what drove men to behave they did toward me.  I was consumed by my fear of being controlled and abused and lashed out in a fury of aggression toward men of all ages, shapes and sizes.  I saw women as needing protection and men as bullies, and it was my God-given right to aggress against them and put them in their place, wherever I encountered them, whether they were family, friends, class-mates or foes, I painted them all with same suspicious brush. Ironically, the abuse I received from these men who felt unloved and unworthy, made me feel unloved and unworthy and I became a bully of a different kind. I always thought I avoided the vicious circle of abuse, until I faced the uncomfortable truth that I had fallen into the psychological trap of verbally abusing men as a punishment for what they did to me.  This negative cycle of violence and abuse threatens the fabric of our society. Next week in the final part, I examine what lies behind this phenomenon and how we can change this destructive path that destroys our communities.

With love always

Radia 🖤

Any South African will have come across this slogan within the past few months with the spate of violent attacks on women and children that has swept our country with such a force. Is it addressed to the brutal men who deign to perpetrate such inhumanities against women; or to the authorities who do not prevent or effectively catch the offenders; or is it addressed to society who is inadvertently somehow a part of the atrocity; or perhaps it’s is addressed to everyone? The campaign certainly brings awareness to the issue, but seems to leaves us to work out the details.

There are so many different types of atrocities against women and children. Each of them is heinous and criminal to the core although they differ in intensity and nature somewhat. Today I want to look at domestic abuse.  Physical and emotional abuse by men against their wives and girlfriends has always boggled my mind. This applies equally to men who are emotionally abused by their female partners. I will use the abuse against women as the context as it is more prevalent.

Many times, women reman in abusive relationships for years and years. Some leave and head for shelters in fear of their lives, while others forgive over and over again, secretly believing that they are somehow responsible for, and deserve the punishment meted by their partners. Sometimes they remain with these men out of fear while their bulling aggressive men continue to abuse them, often begging for forgiveness and declaring love and regret afterwards, only to repeat the abuse. The women live in fear of the next emotional outburst. Throughout these perpetual vicious cycles, the men don’t fully understand why they abuse and the women don’t understand why they stay in the relationship knowing that it will happen again. We tend to focus on the men and their abuse and look at ways of stopping their violence. We want government to intervene.   They pass a law, but it doesn’t stop. They have national awareness campaigns but it doesn’t stop.  People march in the streets and it doesn’t stop.  In truth abused women often find ‘plausible’ excuses for staying, such as the children. Staying for the sake of the children is counter-intuitive, as they suffer irreparable damage if they experience (rather than observe) the violence against their mother. That is a topic on its own.  Financial reasons are another common excuse.  Do they honestly think that there is no other conceivable means to a living?  If he were to die, how would she survive?  She’d find a way. No-one is completely dependent on another human being.   To believe that is to place limitations on God and his universal power.  He will be to us what we are to Him, so if you believe He will not be there for you, you fulfil your own prophecies in a way.

Another common excuse is to convince oneself that his abuse is a perverse sign of love.  She tells herself that –

he does love her, he tells her so.

It’s just that he gets angry now and then and he doesn’t really mean it, and anyway she brought it on herself.

He makes up afterwards and shows her how much he loves her.

Sometimes he even cries…

These kinds of destructive relationships are complex and involve a toxic symbiosis. They feed off each other’s weaknesses.  At the heart of the poison lies the weak man who wants to dominate and overpower to feel stronger, most often coupled by the self-hating weak woman who submits to the punishment she secretly thinks she deserves. Ironically, the abuser who is physically stronger is essentially weak at the core. We all know that the archetypal bully suffers inherent feelings of inadequacy and flexes his muscles to hide his weakness. The man most likely experiences intense emotional stress and feels so disempowered at times that physical bullying seems to him the only way to prove his superiority and control over a situation over which he has clearly lost control.  He makes himself feel like ‘the man’ by exercising brute force over a female who is physically weaker than he is. Only, he never manages to convince himself that he is truly a man, so he repeatedly abuses. He most likely suffered some abuse in his life and can’t stop himself from doing the same to others.  The woman on the other hand is completely disempowered as she enters this arena with no defence and the only thing she gains from the situation is the label of the victim. Her bruises and shame are her covert badges to elicit sympathy and self-pity. She feels shame, and fears the judgement of others yet finds herself nurturing her sense of victimhood.  It must mean therefore that the package of shame, pity and self-loathing must serve her is some way, otherwise she would have left at ANY cost.  Although some women do leave and begin again, bravo! others clothe themselves with victim status and choose to stay in the harmful relationship or make some feeble attempt to leave, only to return again. She most likely carries around guilt of doing something unforgivable to herself, having fallen foul somehow of the rules that were thrown at her as a little girl.  This vicious cycle feeds both partners’ deep emotional needs. One to regain power through abuse and domination and the other, to punish herself for being the bad person she thinks she truly is.  These emotions don’t resolve themselves if the partnership or marriage breaks up.  The abusive, emotionally damaged, disempowered bully will undoubtedly find another willing victim to bully and abuse.  Unless he deals with the essence of his problem, he will continue to manifest his dominance by finding another victim to abuse. The woman who copped the role the victim at a high cost to herself, will not suddenly uplift her self-esteem because she left the bully. Inevitably she will be drawn to another in one form or the other.

By nurturing the idea of the woman in this scenario as a helpless victim are we not doing a disservice to her and to women in general.  Is society not perpetuating the notion that women are less than men in some way. We say ‘shame, the poor woman. She is subject to that animal!’   While she is physically weaker than the man, is she really mentally weaker? I’d say it takes some mental strength and tenacity to CHOOSE to stay in a toxic abusive relationship for years, even if it does feed a psychosis.  I think of the Divine verse where God says (loosely translated) that He will not help a people until they help themselves first. This applies to both the abuser and the victim, as both are trapped in destructive and dangerous behaviour. Our focus on pursuing the abuser has not proven successful.  Putting him in prison (if one can secure a conviction) will not cure the ailment that plagues his kind and society at large. When we say ‘enough is enough’ to the brutal man, should we not also be saying ‘enough is enough’ to self-destructive woman.  Should we not be saying ‘enough is enough’ to both for harming their children.  Should we not be saying ‘enough is enough’ to a society that breeds such disease? Should we not be saying ‘enough is enough’ to ourselves for not changing the dog-eat-dog value system that breeds this poison?

To effect change we need to first understand Why.  Why these disempowered people behave as they do, has been the subject of literature and studies, and although this is a complex phenomenon, there is a simple answer.  It is the answer to most questions.  At the heart of the anger, fear and emotional turmoil lies the very basic need for love because somewhere deep down, there is a rumbling feeling of not being good enough… More next week God-willing, as I explore other types of abuse, like rape and child abuse and molestation before exploring the why and finding the common thread that links these and other atrocities against humanity.

With love always

Radia 💛

It’s been a while since I took up the mighty ‘pen’.  On this arduous journey in search of a purposeful life, I experienced ‘the void’ creeping back again and having now hit me full in the face, I began to unravel the mysteries of my life and learnings.  Why was my service to my family and my country not enough?  I am fully engaged in nurturing my 3 teenagers and loving and supporting my husband while holding a full-time job.  I recently got a promotion and found myself oddly feeling very pressured every time someone congratulated me, thinking that sympathies were more in order.  I was in charge of a few lawyers before, and now I have the mammoth responsibility of managing the 3000km of South African coastline sustainably with an inadequate staff component of 38 people.  I had sleepless nights and was constantly stressed for the first two months.  The challenges and responsibilities were simply overwhelming.  I thought that perhaps the importance of the work I was doing would make me feel more fulfilled, but it had the opposite effect. I felt like, as important as this work is to the planet and humanity, I am meant to be doing something else.  Now that the storm is passing, I still feel like I’m missing something…

I am by nature a leader and a teacher of sorts.  I have to fully understand what kind of leader and teacher I am.  Although my natural role is realised at work, it is not enough, and perhaps it is because I am not optimally teaching what I love to teach and in the manner I love to do so.  Early on in my life I realised that I am a natural communicator. I suspect that I am better at speaking than writing, but I always resort to writing first.  I also learned that I have a natural inclination to want to help and empower people.  I am also driven by principles of justice, fair play and personal truth. (We can never really have complete truth of anything, as it will inevitably be coloured by our value system, perceptions and available information about any given situation.)  I am passionate about motivating, empowering and inspiring through narrations of my life journey and learnings.  My need to help people through my God-given strengths permeates my body as strongly as the blood that courses through my veins and if I am not living that reality, I find the void creeping up on me like a black vapour clouding my brain.  I also question my intentions when doing what I do best. Am I really fulfilling a noble divine purpose or am I simply satisfying my voracious ego? My internal conflict is probably the reason that I have not done more to reach people in my life and chose the safer route, leaving me feeling incomplete at best.  Then I realised that playing it safe is never an option.  The ego is ever present and with its powerful pull, leads us humans to poor choices. If I help people in order to feel magnanimous and powerful, it almost negates the effectiveness of my efforts, and the results will be harmful to me. The essence of my message will inevitably be subsumed by my pride and egotism which will tarnish its purpose.  If I avoid helping people because I fear that I will be criticised or attract negative attention is it not equally egotistical? Having blogged about my personal story, I found myself very vulnerable.  My ego was fragile, and I thought I needed a break. Then I thought that I wouldn’t be able to write anything ‘sensational’ like that again and people would be bored, so the break became longer, until my ego prevented me from writing altogether.  This internal conflict was paralysing me, taking me further away from my purpose and making me depressive.

I mercifully received sage advice from my very noble spiritual master from Turkey, who visited us in South Africa recently. He said very simply, to fight the ego (nafs) remind yourself that you are nothing and that God is everything…

This blog must serve its purpose then to as many or as few as it is meant to serve.  Many people feel the void, the lack of fulfilment and the yearning to be more, to do more.  How do you find your purpose?  Ask yourself what is it that makes you feel excited while you’re doing it, to the extent that you are unaware of the time passing when you do it.  It should come naturally to you and you will feel energised while you’re doing it. Maybe it has to do with numbers, or art, like drawing or painting. Perhaps it is engaging in community work or working on computer programmes. Perhaps cooking and baking or actively engaging in national and global politics.  When you find what makes you tick, ask yourself how you can use what you do to make the lives of other people around you better in some way. When you discover this, you may be closer to living your purpose and filling the void.  When you are manifesting your life purpose, your life will by no means be easier, but you will find yourself unable to stop. It is important to remember, no contribution to the human race and this planet is too small. Every small action we make, reverberates in a chain of events. Do not under-estimate the Butterfly Effect – A minor change such as the flapping of the wings of a butterfly can create a phenomenal change. I have to constantly remind myself of this phenomenon. What you do is not nearly as important as why you do it.  Replace the “I” with the “we”. Focus inwardly to have an outward effect and seek no gratification for what you do, except the love of God.  Service to humanity is the conduit that connects us to Divine love, Conquering the ego can take us closer to the Divine presence. It is a process and a practice and not an event.

God creates perfectly – You are perfectly created for your intended purpose on this earth.

With love and peace

Radia 💚

If you wish to engage me further, please e-mail me radia.razack@gmail.com

Ok… I avoided the nasty acronym “PMS” in the heading lest it trigger a pre-cyclical reaction before you even read it. This applies to both women andmen by the way.  Here’s what the experts say about women and PMS:

 “Premenstrual syndrome (PMS)is a combination of symptoms that many women get about a week or two before their period. Most women, over 90%, say they get some premenstrual symptoms, such as bloating, headaches, and moodiness.

PMS is a combination of physical and emotional symptoms that many women get after ovulation and before the start of their menstrual period. Researchers think that PMS happens in the days after ovulation because estrogen and progesterone levels begin falling dramatically if you are not pregnant. PMS symptoms go away within a few days after a woman’s period starts as hormone levels begin rising again.

Emotional or mental symptoms of PMS include:¹²

• Irritability or hostile behavior
• Feeling tired
• Sleep problems (sleeping too much or too little)
• Appetite changes or food cravings
• Trouble with concentration or memory
• Tension or anxiety
• Depression, feelings of sadness, or crying spells
• Mood swings
• Less interest in sex”

According to the statistics at least 90% of you (women) experience some or maybe all of these nasty symptoms once a month.

While much has been written about the effects of PMS on women, there is less information of the effects of PMS on men. I thought I’d speculate on some of the symptoms that men suffer when their women experience PMS:

• Extreme avoidance
• Tension and anxiety
• Fear of confrontation
• Fear of unreasonableness
• Fear of saying the wrong thing
• Fear of saying anything, really
• Fear of death in extreme cases; and
• Just general fear

It seems this physiological phenomenon of women’s menses probably affects both males and females, although it may not be in equal proportions. There are varying responses from the male species to the first signs of PMS in their women. Often times males give a “knowing glance” when a woman is being testy, with the dreaded silent thought, “it’s that time of the month again”, or perhaps “Has it come so soon again?”. Braver men have been known to actually verbalise those thoughts, often to their regret. The more analytical types, may plan for these recurring events, plotting the dates on a calendar and putting in place a plan of action, which may include, running more errands (or maybe just running), visiting other male friends, gardening and other activities that take them away from the source of the hazard. There are also the patient types, that brace themselves with suits of armour, and brave it through to the end. Then there are the extremists who respond with irritability or aggression, causing minor and sometimes major explosions in a household. Needless to say, the latter is a response to be avoided for obvious reasons.  The rarest response is one of compassion and support towards the woman in distress.  Most likely, the fear symptoms experienced by men under PMS overwhelm any instinct of compassion and endearment under these circumstances. It seems that tears, stress, fear and avoidance  in most cases are destined to dominate average households once a month. Men are not absolved from PMS as they have to deal with the consequences of someone else’s emotional outfall. How they do this reveals their own maturity and growth as it requires not only patience, but empathy and emotional intelligence.

This led me to thinking that there must be something we’re missing.  Surely an occurrence so consistent and impacting can’t just exist for no reason. Scientists may explore biological phenomenon in humans, in order to understand the workings of the human body and to find cures for its ills. As an unapologetic Gnostic, I would like to explore the deeper universal aspects.  While we have much information on the science behind hormonal influences and emotional reactions prior to menstrual cycles, we have little information on the purpose of these processes in the human existence. Why do so many women experience cyclical emotional discomfort? Conversely why do men have to manage the outfall of that experience?

I started pondering my own reactions. I noticed an evolution in the nature of my reactions, during different phases in my life, depending on the situation at hand.  However, I searched for a pattern of consistency. It appears that although my reactions differ, my triggers remain the same.  The issues which usually trigger me, seem to be amplified during an episode of PMS, as if someone pressed the super-size button.  If I don’t take notice of my triggers, under normal circumstances, they are impossible miss during a hormonal drop. So why should I get a super-size boost of the things that irritate my psyche?  I cannot be irritated with something that does not irritate me, therefore an amplification of my irritation should lead me to examine the source of it and then to the reason that it is triggered in the first place.  A deeper examination of the self can unravel traumas and pains that we hold onto throughout our lives that shape our reactions to the world.  The worst of these reactions seem to be revealed in extreme events such as PMS.

There are other activities that may yield the same results. Anyone who has practised fasting (deprivation of food) for a higher purpose,  or even just hunger, will be able to testify to a similar reaction.  Muslims during Ramadaan tend to experience ease at the beginning when the body is replenished and can handle the deprivation. Further into the month fasters may experience one or more of the following symptoms:

• Irritability or hostile behavior
• Feeling tired
• Sleep problems (sleeping too much or too little)
• Appetite changes or food cravings
• Trouble with concentration or memory
• Tension or anxiety
• Depression, feelings of sadness, or crying spells
• Mood swings
• Less interest in sex”

Does this look familiar? The same symptoms experienced by woman with PMS.   Before Muslims over-react, I am no way addressing the sacredness of Ramadaan, nor the numerous gifts of the month. This comparison is meant to bring to the surface one small aspect of fasting that is often neglected. In fact I have only heard one scholar address it –  Sheikh Ahmad Saad, who graced us with his wisdom last year in Pinelands, Cape Town.

Perhaps it’s no co-incidence that extreme conditions (hormonal fluxes, hunger) brings our emotional pain to the surface so that we may engage it and heal slowly but surely. If each of us takes responsibility for our healing, perhaps our engagement with each other as human beings  and with everything else on this planet will improve. The negative feelings are there to make us contemplate our humanity, our pain, our anxiety and get past it, and become better human beings. Patience and self-restraint are stepping stones to unlocking the pathway to growth and upliftment. Putting these characteristics into action, when one is in ‘hyper-mode’ takes extraordinary resolve and practice.  When we experience physical pain, it is an indication that something is not right in the body and we immediately seek remedies to fix what is wrong. Emotional pain is also a sign that something is not right with the psyche. Why do we not then rush to find the source and to fix what is wrong?  Perhaps these extreme events are an unrecognised mercy from God, which in the case of PMS, is  ironically seen by many as a curse or an inconvenience.  The path of introspection has many doors. Perhaps we can look at the extreme experience of PMS as a door to upliftment of the higher self.

To those entering Ramadaan, perhaps this is the opportunity to take the journey inwards, beyond the emptiness of the belly and towards the root of our discontent so that we may take that step towards healing and upliftment of the soul.  May the month be blessed and beneficial.

With love

Radia💜

South Africans are familiar with the infamous sardine run, where once a year, during the winter months, hordes of sardines and predators flock to the waters of the Eastern Cape coastline to the South Coast of KwaZulu-Natal.It has been described as

 “The largest bio-mass migration on the planet” For many years this description was appended to the sardine run, however the phenomenon of the sardine run is still not fully understood. There is another mass phenomenon that occurs throughout South Africa in concentrated areas. It happens once a year, is driven by the lunar cycle of the annual Ramadan (Muslim fasting month), rather than by weather patterns.  Geographically it is not confined to any particular area but occurs anywhere in the country where concentration of Muslims are situated. This phenomenon can be described as the ‘samoosa run’, where women and some home-industries produce hordes of samoosas and other savouries in preparation for the month of fasting for Muslims. It could easily equate to the largest savoury-mass on the planet, where single households can make up to 70 dozen samoosas, in addition to dozens of other savouries, including pies, half-moons, sweet treats and other niceties in preparation for this month of deprivation.  Like the sardine run, this phenomenon too is not fully understood.

Women start asking each other as early as 2 months prior toRamadaan, “have you started your savouries yet?”, incurring a rush of guilt and fear in the most organised home-executives, who feel compelled to immediately catapult into action for fear of not meeting the annual target on time. There has been a burgeoning tendency to outsource, and although this innovation has taken root, there are still some who regard it as sacrilege to not make one’s own savouries from scratch. Having grown up with the notion that the month of Ramadaanis connected with eating savouries and sweet treats, I never questioned the rationality or origin of the tradition growing up. There was a great aspect of the samoosa run that stuck in my mind as a child.  Before iftaar (the breaking of the fast at dusk), as children, we would be tasked with taking small plates of goodies to the neighbours, who would oblige with an exchange of different savouries or sweet treats from their kitchens.  Often there were so many exchanges during the hustle and bustle of last- minute preparations before iftaar, that often plates would simply be swapped, and one would have to make sure that the neighbour was not receiving the same plate that she originally gave you. As the designated samosa runners, we would have to be vigilant and fleet footed at the same time. There was a community connectivity about this tradition that I miss, having moved to a less homogenous community, where houses are spaced further apart, and neighbours are bereft of the community spirit we had growing up.

Despite the sharing spirit engendered by the samoosa run, the tradition is somewhat ironic when you look at the purpose of fasting. Fasting in broad terms in the Islamic context has a component of sacrifice, and self-discipline and the deprivation of food, water and sexual intercourse during the hours of dawn to dusk has the spiritual effect of lessening desire and bringing to the fore the weaker traits in our personalities to allow us to address these shortcomings and strengthen our essence, humanity and state of being. If done properly it purifies and ennobles the soul. There are many other benefits which include sharing the feeling of hunger of the less fortunate.  There is somewhat of a disjunct between the spiritual pursuit of Ramadanwith the obsession of providing extra-special food during this month.  Gorging ourselves with fired unhealthy foods on an empty stomach is in fact the opposite of the prophetic practise and

Nevertheless, this sub-culture, which developed from goodness knows where, seems firmly rooted in South Africa. Like everything else there should perhaps be a mindfulness that if you don’t have a deep-freezer full of savouries, or heaven forbid, have no savouries at all and plan to break your fast with normal food😱, the social consequences are not going to impact on your physical, emotional or spiritual existence in any material way.  You may also be surprised to discover that your families may actually be fine and survive the month, and even better may be healthier at the end of

Wishing all those who are approaching the fasting month, a blessed Ramadaan. And to all those having to deal with those fasting, I wish you much patience and forbearance towards those who struggle to hold their tempers in the face of

With love as always

Radia💚☪️

21 April 2019

Greetings to my intimate group of readers.  I’m back again to grace my blog with more of my thoughts, sometimes jumbled, sometime insightful, but mostly honest.  I know I said I’m busy with my book, but truth be told, I’ve been more engrossed with my latest obsession, Dirillis Ertugrul (The Resurrection, Ertugrul), a Turkish series which dramatically chronicles the lives of a nomad tribe in the 13^thcentury. It features the father of Osman Gazi, who was the founder of the formidable Ottoman empire, that dominated the world for almost 800 years.  If you haven’t heard about this series that has captured the interest of Muslims around the world, you must not be amongst the binge-watching masses.  Being snagged between eastern and western culture, and being a scarf wearer, I am in love with the women’s outfits, and their elaborate headdress makes me want to start a new fashion trend, although I try to ignore that the fact that they seem to change their clothes only twice in a season. There are moments when I am driven insane by mother Hayme’s off-centre head piece, which deeply offends my sense of symmetry.  Nonetheless, the deep rich colours and hand-woven fabrics, ornate rugs, pure leather boots and hand carved wooden chests are out of this world. Being nomadic, they have limited access to water, and apart from watching the characters take ablution of their faces, hands and feet, one never witnesses any bathing or body cleansing, even after vigorous battles. The toilet arrangements are also visibly absent. The music is repetitive and predictive, the battle scenes too long and unrealistic, and the constant reading of badly translated sub-titles can be tedious.  Also, this show has none of the special effects, dramatic music, dragons and raunchy scenes of Game of Thrones. So, why has this Netflix show gained such popularity that they started making T-shirts with the Ertugrul insignia?

My own obsession with this show, made me contemplate its uncanny attraction.  The theme is characterised by the survival of a nomadic people, surrounded by numerous enemies including the Knights Templar Crusaders, The Byzantines and the Mongolians who ruthlessly conquered, rampaging and pillaging their enemies, killing men women children indiscriminately.   The depiction of the religious battle between the Turks and the Christians casts the Christians as evil, which is obviously biased and overplayed to create a good-guy bad-guy scenario. The irony that this is exactly how Muslims are unfairly portrayed in modern times is either deliberate or negligently lost on the writers.

As if surviving against these odds is not enough the tribe is constantly faced with treachery and betrayal.  Through the constant trials and tribulations there is a steadfast belief and righteous thread of justice, divinity and righteous action that is indelibly woven through the story, carried largely through the role of protagonist, Ertegrul, who is pretty much the Braveheart of the Kayi tribe. The raw mortal combat type survival is juxtaposed by the deep spiritual calm of the Dervish Sufis lead by the historic Ibn Arabi, a mystic poet and philosopher who lived at the time. Arabi only surfaces intermittently and lends a calmness to the chaos that characterises the period. He supports the battle against oppression with spiritual aplomb and plays a prominent role in the successes from the background.  His esoteric role lends and beauty to the strength of spirituality and prayer in Islam. The context of the battles is defensive rather than aggressive and is steeped in establishing what is fair.  It defines the vexed notion of war for peace, which seems to be the Islamic fate. Notably, there is no fanatical gender oppression that is associated with modern Muslims. The women, who are predominantly occupied with weaving and colouring the fantastic rugs and fabrics for sale to traders, certainly are no strangers to wielding their swords, shooting arrows and kicking ass when they need to.  Mother Hayme, who is the mother of Ertugrul and his brothers takes the reigns of the Kayi tribe and there is no issue with her position as head because she is a woman. She commands the respect of her male counterparts and the Kayi tribe. The strength and convictions of one man against the odds, who paved the way to the establishment of an empire which was founded on truth and justice is at the heart of this tale. This story provides hope to all who experience self-doubt, fear and oppression.   This show revives the aspect of Islam that was lost in a by-gone era. It captures the hearts of all who admire the integrity and grit of a people who persevered through oppression, treachery, lies and ignominy with righteousness and honour.  In a world where the truth of Islam has been diluted and distorted, this reminder of a slice in history of honourable battle for justice and survival, grips the Muslims with a force they may not even comprehend.

Perhaps it is the hope of regaining the rectitude, justice, honour and integrity that draws people to this historical drama, despite its production draw-backs.

As I proceed through the lengthy 3^rdseason of this historical drama, I am eternally grateful that I live in an era of plumbing and electricity, although I still dream of wearing those awesome threads!

With love 💜

Radia

‘Don’t be a whore!’ was one of my early lessons. When I was a little girl, my father was paranoid that I would become promiscuous and his messaging to me on the subject was harsh and aggressive, causing me much consternation about something I didn’t quite understand.  Sex was a topic of taboo where kids giggled and whispered about it, parents avoided it and education and awareness in those days was non-existent. The pendulum seems to have swung the other way these days, where it is promoted amongst the youth with the caveat that they have to be ‘cautious’ and ‘responsible’, almost as if they should indulge in the pleasure without commitment or care as long as they use protection.  Sex is more than a moment of pleasure between two people. It is a sacred act, which should be cherished and taken lightly. It needs to be understood, contextualised and taught with great care.

Religion and the idea of monogamy is frowned of upon in modern populist culture. The value of the act itself has been denigrated to ‘pure enjoyment’ and gratification, when it is so much more than that.  The merging of two souls in that manner, is God-given, and should be approached more with respect than fear or frivolity. There are many studies done on women who struggle to reach the ultimate goal of the act, and it is not surprising if we look at the context of indulgence and sexual freedom on the one hand and religious taboo on the other. Western culture places pressure on young girls to lose their virginity and young boys to be active studs, while conservative extremism forbids any talk or reference to it all.  I was exposed to the latter.

I recounted my ‘sexual encounter’ for want of a better phrase in the chapter “Come ‘lie’ with me little girl”, when a grown man impeached my privacy and exposed my six-year-old body to things that I couldn’t fathom at the time. That experience was a turning point for my psyche and was the catalyst for how I saw myself and the world.  His seduction was particularly deft.  He built trust with me first, making me feel important. By the time I was six I had already felt like the outsider, as I recounted in my previous two chapters. Isolated and lonely, I lapped up any attention I could find because it made me feel less lonely and made me feel loved. I sadly still find myself seeking attention on occasion, but temper it, rather than giving in to it, reminding myself that attention does not equal love.  I need to pay attention to me and appreciate my God-given gifts, without the need for external validation. I have to constantly remind myself that God is sufficient unto me.

At the age of six, when this grown man thought I was worthy of attention, I was enamoured.  He spoke in nice soft tones to me, almost as if he knew my weakness, and I succumbed like a moth to the flame.  By the time I realised what he really wanted to do, it was too late.  As I described in my detailed account of the incident, the natural physical stimulus, which my body responded to did not match the mental anguish and disgust my mind was spewing.  Although he did not penetrate me and cause me pain, the sensation confused me, yet I knew it was taboo. It was a bad thing. At six, I knew this. It was taught to me implicitly everywhere.  However, I felt like I betrayed myself, because of the physical sensation that I felt but could not stop.  I felt like I betrayed myself, because I didn’t scream out for someone or get up or run away. In my mind, I was ‘bad’ because I allowed this to happen to me.  I felt betrayed by him, because he manipulated me, and I trusted him, and then he did those things and showed me his manhood and caused me the biggest trauma in my young life.  I felt like the world was bad. Adults were not to be trusted, men especially.  I felt like God let this happen to me, and I felt that the world was a unfair.

I wrote about the way I struggled with sex in my first two marriages, in the earlier chapters of my story. I spoke out about the pain I endured. “Don’t be a whore!”.  Was I a whore if I enjoyed it, even with my husband?  Was that why my muscles clenched up so tight that the coitus was almost impossible for me for so many years.  Or was it because I felt shame for what happened to me when I was six years old? I also wrote about an experience in my twenties, after my divorce from my first husband, when I was “raped”, although I struggle to use that label, which is in itself a negative for women, as it perpetuates a concept of victimisation and persecution. “My Lord”, I screamed why is this happening to me again. “Why are you doing this to me?”  Was God doing this to me or were human beings?  In each case the emotional frailty I felt made me vulnerable and susceptible to these experiences, in which men thought they had a right to impose themselves on me.

When I was supposed to be enjoying the sexual union in a marriage, I experienced pain instead. Subconsciously the feelings of shame, guilt, disgust at the prospect of the male organ intruding caused me to tighten my inner walls and shut out this threat. When I met Shafiq, he spoke to me about the physical barriers he felt. For the first time I became aware that I created physical resistance because of my emotional trauma.  A most sacred union between two people was marred by my labels that “I was bad, because sex was bad, and men were bad”. Men and their phalluses of manhood were bad, because you cannot trust them. They will hurt you. Betray you. Compromise you.  I was subconsciously plagued by these thoughts. Mercifully when I met the man who had the maturity to speak to me about it, I became more conscious about the impact my emotions were having on my body, and I was slowly able to let go, until I realised the beauty of the sexual experience. With the birth of my first child the wonder of my womanhood completed the cycle and the walls had all but collapsed.  I finally submitted to my femininity, to the perfect design of the human body and the flawless function of mutual giving and receiving and being a conduit for another precious human life to come into this world. I saw what God was showing me, through my traumas and pain.  The release of my pent-up angst was so liberating that it opened the door to a deeper understanding of the spiritual aspects of this encounter.  I am not ready to write about that quite yet.

Just talking about it with my husband, was a catalyst for healing.  Why then is it so difficult for us to talk to our children about it. If I had been educated, holistically, without the taboo and the drama, I may have been able to ward off the predators in my life. It may have empowered me, freeing me of the fear of the unknown, the taboo and the negatives that impounded my mind.  I decided to teach my children, and not repeat the mistakes of the past, and I pray that they do not have to learn the hard way, like I did. I teach them with openness and integrity, suitable for their ages. It is far too important an aspect of life not to talk about.

Till next time, God-willing

With love, Radia💚

Part 19 – “One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star”

In my last post I recounted the questions that started surfacing in my mind as a young child.

Why is the world so Unkind?

Why was I an outsider?

why was the world so unfair?

By the time I started Grade 1 at Progress Primary School I already found myself floundering, lost, alone. I was born in June, so I was allowed to begin Grade 1 before I turned six. I felt overwhelmed and alone. I had no friends that I bonded with and I felt isolated and alone. We would get 10cents spending money if we were lucky and that would buy quite a bit. I remember moorkoo (a hard spiral-shaped crispy fried spicy batter) which I could manage to buy.   I remember the moorkoo more sharply than I do any of my fellow pupils in my formative years at school.  There was a boy who wet his pants in the class and someone who picked their nose and ate it.  As grossed out as I was, I cannot remember the children or their names.  I had no friends.  I wished I was good at running, because that attracted much attention and fuss. However, I had to satisfy myself cheering on the fast kids in my sports house, wearing the coloured rosette that my mom sewed for me.  I was spotted by the PE teacher as having a penchant for gymnastics and was told to do some bunny jumps on the wooden bench. I never really found much joy there either.  I was not a loner, but I felt lonely.  After school I would visit my aunt and her toddler, my new cousin, and I’d inevitably be late for madrassa (Muslim school).  I felt equally lost at Madrassah, afraid all the time that I’d forget my surahs (verses of the Quraan). Teachers and school were a grim experience for me. My memories of Grade 1 and 2 were clouded and it was about the same time that my innocence had been disturbed by my mom’s cousin in the incident I described in earlier chapters.  How much that affected my schooling I will never know.  I loved books and would immerse myself in the likes of Enid Blyton, only discovering in later years her subtle racism and her personality disorders that clouded her reputation.  It was the fantasy aspect that appealed to me most.  I loved that I could become lost in a fantasy world and pretend that I was capable of flying and doing magic because it made me feel empowered.  In Grade 1 and 2 I felt lost in the crowd, ignored and overwhelmed.   In Grade 2 I got a maths sum wrong and I was rewarded with a strike from the sharp end of a ruler which left a lasting scar.  In those days, corporal punishment was the norm. Boys would get whipped with a cane on their butts and girls would get ruler shots on their hands.  The end result was that I had a mental block to arithmetic and math ever since. I work carefully to hide this disability especially because I am expected to be so ‘intelligent’, being an advocate (barrister), environmental lawyer blah blah. My Grade 2 teacher, who had an acne scared face and the most beautiful thick long hair which she wore in a braid to one side, no doubt thought she was doing what was best for me.  By the time I went to standard 1 (Grade 3), I had all but lost any concept and couldn’t keep up with basic arithmetic.  Instead, I continued to throw myself into books and was so thrilled when the protagonist was the same age as me.  There were moments of happiness in my childhood, but mostly it was marred by a shadowy mist, in which I felt misplaced.

In standard 2 (Garde 4), they had built a new school closer to where we lived called Pentarosa Indian Primary School. Things started changing then. I found myself coming out of my silent shell. I started performing well at school (except for math), and my personality started surfacing more as a leader.  We were asked to prepare a speech in class and I had not done my home-work. I thought I had some time because I was way down the list alphabetically and would probably get my turn in a few days. The teacher decided to randomly call people up and as fate would have it, my name was called.  Being put on the spot, I did an impromptu speech which was a pack of lies. I still don’t know why I made up a story about my blind Grandfather, who was anything but blind, in fact he was a dominating strong sometimes aggressive man. I always witnessed my father’s subservience and deference to his father with confusion. He was only ever this way with his parents. I felt like he was bullied but endured it out of respect and then moved out of the way as soon as he could.  This made an indelible impression on me and I suddenly found myself speaking about a fictitious feeble vulnerable grandfather as if I was taking his power away from him. I am reminded of a verse that I love that says God’s mercy is in every situation.   That speech got me recognised and I ended up doing the annual opening prayer for ours school concerts, always taking the lead in plays, speech contests and the like. I had a talent for taking my pain and reflecting it to the world.  Instead of being consumed by my loneliness and exclusion, I stood out in the crowd and made myself seen and heard. Being the outsider, gave me a different perspective. I could see people in a way that many others sometimes didn’t.  I saw their pain and their vulnerabilities. Their beauty and the secrets. I felt their emotions in every movement or expression of their faces. I found it almost second nature to look past their posturing and glimpse at what they were feeling. I didn’t understand it always, but it disturbed me. I always hoped that people would be happy all the time, and when I could witness their pain, not knowing where it came from, it made me unhappy and I would reflect that pain back onto them, as if shielding myself from it.  I would look for reasons to judge them badly because they were making me feel bad.  I tried to shield myself form absorbing the pain of others by finding fault with them, so that I didn’t have to deal with them. Yet as I grew older, I always tried to mend people’s hearts. It is still something I struggle with. Trying to fix the world.  All the while, I was trying to mend my own heart. I never assimilated into any group, which allowed me to see the strengths and weaknesses of each with an objectivity, which would not have been possible if I were on the inside.  I could participate in groups without being absorbed by the culture or ethos of any of them. I searched for their truths and falsehoods, whether it was in religious groups, political organisations or social circles.  I sometimes assumed the identity of a group, and would pretend to accept the values, but it never lasted long, like my first marriage and my friends at varsity. I had to forge my own path. I was an outsider, because I had to see the world and humanity from a different angle. If I were to serve humanity, I would have to understand human beings, and I could never have clear picture from the inside. The pain I suffer being on the outside however, helps me to understand myself.  The path of finding the self is littered with pain and strife, for it can be no other way.  Pain is an essential part of existence It is an indicator of something that needs attention. When I sought to avoid it, it brought more pain. I constantly try to discover the source of my pain (physical and emotional) and learn and grow through it. It has become my friend.  My experiences, which I used to think were bad and even tragic were perhaps just catalysts for my learnings and growth. My contemplation about these matters have led me to find the answers to my questions. Perhaps one of God’s pointers are to be found in the very darkness of our experiences. For we will never the see the breaking of the dawn without the darkest part of the night.

I had to answer my other questions also. But more of that next time.

With love, Radia💜