Tag: children

  • Mother’s Day – An Awkward Moment

    I’ve been tempted to ask a few people the kind of question that is often dismissed as being ridiculous or unrealistic. But it’s really a simple question that goes something like this. Apart from Anniversaries, Birthdays, and days like Mother’s Day or Father’s Day, do you believe that you acknowledge or celebrate the contribution of your parents, or other loved ones, sufficiently in your life? If yes, you don’t need to commemorate Mother’s Day, or any of those other occasions. If no, then those occasions are desperately needed reminders for you, and you’re probably a contributor towards the reasons for having a need to set aside a specific day to acknowledge these people in our lives.

    I still maintain that living life by predetermined occasions intended to celebrate the contribution of individuals, or even just to acknowledge them is a waste of life and a lie to pacify our own inefficiencies. We can speak idealistically of acknowledging and affirming significant others, but when we wait for the occasion of a birthday or similar event to express such appreciation, then we easily fall prey to the act becoming a ritual rather than a sincere effort. Worse than this, we assume that the person will live long enough for us to acknowledge them when that occasion arrives, because acknowledging them as and when we feel inclined to do so naturally seems to be too burdensome.

    I’ve previously expressed my distaste for celebrating birthdays, and similarly, I also spurn the celebration of such token occasions because it encourages the mindset of ‘take for granted now because we can always make up for it later’. Mothers, fathers, and significant others, including our children, must not be conditioned to only expect to receive affirmation or gratitude from us on specific occasions. Nor should they be conditioned to believe that it’s only expected of them to reciprocate in the same way either. Talking about the celebration of life must not just be a romantic notion or an ideal, but instead it should be something that we practice with conviction.

    There’s enough tokenism in this world which feeds the cycle of insincerity that plagues almost every human interaction these days. Find a reason to celebrate the people in your life at times when they least expect it. Don’t wait for special occasions. Life is too fragile to take it for granted by assuming that tomorrow will be another day for us to do what we should have done today. But this is not about procrastination. It’s about gratitude. True gratitude is not guided by superficial occasions that celebrate milestones that are meaningless. We’ve placed so much emphasis on the occasions, that we’ve forgotten what the true celebration is about.

    Occasions like these have only ever served to appease the conscience of those that fail to celebrate the significant others in their lives the rest of the year. This becomes ever more evident when our parents grow old, which usually coincides with the prime of our lives, at which point the sick mindset sets in that suggests that they had their turn, so now it’s ours, and they should be able to understand that.

    The lethargy of society in giving back is a constant source of disillusionment. We’ve taken consumerism and made it an inherent part of our personal relationships as well. I pray that it changes. More than this, I pray that the majority of people that read this post will disagree with me about showing affection, appreciation, or affirmation to their loved ones on predetermined occasions only.

  • From Father To Son

    I watched a movie tonight that was probably the most accurate portrayal of the life of an average Muslim family in South Africa. The movie is called Material, and sets out to depict the struggles of many Muslim Indian families that are ruled by a firm-handed man. The authenticity of the characters, the script, and the setting made it feel as if it was a chapter taken out of my own life, although I can’t lay claim to having nearly as meaningful a relationship with my own father. Perhaps the familiarity with the themes is what hit home for me, but I think it’s more than that.

    I often feel a twinge of guilt when I speak plainly about my relationship with my father, but like it is said, speaking ill of the dead only hurts the living. My intentions are never to malign him, nor to earn sympathy from anyone that bothers to listen, but describing my relationship with my father as a relationship at all feels somewhat unnatural. There are a few traits that I have quite unwittingly inherited from my father which includes my sharp tongue, my cynical nature, and my uncompromising approach to matters of principle. Perhaps a part of my dark humour was also inherited, but very few see that side of me, so it probably doesn’t count.

    The truth is I’ve often wondered what it must be like to have a father to turn to when in need of advice, or perhaps just a sounding board steeped in wisdom. How must it feel to be able to stand up and be counted for your accomplishments knowing that your father is standing in the crowd feeling a sense of pride about what you made of the little that you had to start with. I was clothed, fed, and I had a roof over my head, and for that I will always be grateful. Unfortunately the duties of a father don’t stop at that point. The basics only provides the shell, not even the foundation.

    I’ve often assumed that only once I grow to understand what drove my father to be the bitter and angry man that he was, will I be able to subdue similar demons on my part. I wondered if he was perhaps misunderstood, or if he himself did not understand the source of his rage or his bitterness, but even if that were true, I see the damage in my siblings that leaves me loathe to make excuses for much of what he did. I’ve always maintained that the best gift a parent can give their child is the gift of a healthy self-esteem. Everything else in life becomes bearable, or even easy, if we have a sense of self that is founded in a childhood that was indeed a childhood.

    I’ve never known the true embrace of a father, not physically, nor emotionally. It’s an emotion that I’ll never experience the pleasure of, nor will I ever experience the pleasure or the consoling comfort of knowing what it’s like for him to be proud of me, or my achievements. My very strong streak of obstinate rebellion in the face of criticism took hold at an early age. I realised very early in life that nothing came easily. Every handout or hand-up was inevitably attached to an expectation of reciprocation, not always in equal measures. There was little encouragement to pursue anything meaningful beyond what I was innately capable of. I was barely in standard nine (11th grade) when I recall having a conversation with my mother about wanting to move out because I refused to put up with the toxic environment that we called home any longer.

    When the father in that movie showed his son the door, and arrogantly encouraged him to use it, I had very vivid flashbacks of similar moments in harsher tones, with significantly more colourful language, including the moment when I was shown the door when I was barely 6 years old as punishment for forgetting my jacket outside. Somehow moments like those, moments that shaped my character in ways that I would only realise much later in life, always seemed to happen on cold winter nights. The moment when my ex-wife flew into a rage and threatened mine and my daughter’s lives, or the moment when I stared at the beautiful moon through metal grids mounted at least twenty feet above me as I paced around the courtyard of the holding cells on the coldest night that year, each leaving scars and traces of wisdom that only the school of life can teach.

    My resilience, tenacity, compassion (albeit well hidden), and patience, I get from my mother. Reflections like these are what dissuades me from writing that book. My story is not unique, and in that fact alone there is much to be sad about, not celebrated. It sometimes feels as if writing about it romanticises it in a way that undermines the cruelty of it all. I guess, if nothing else, I’m grappling with whether or not I have a story to tell, or if the story only needs to be written so that I can finally rid myself of it.

  • Parenting Gone Wrong

    This is an interaction I had with someone on my Tumblr blog. It touches on the destructive relationships that some parents have with their children. It’s something quite close to home for me, so I thought I’d share it here as well. The content that is bold is my opinion that I shared on the issues being raised. 

    What if a person has a sort-of narcissistic mother? And what if she has disliked the child since the child was young (but loved the child’s younger sibling), and still blames the child (even when the child is now an adult) for everything? So in her heart and mind, her child is the one with problems, the one who is the cause of all pain in her life.

    Narcissistic mothers are more common than you would imagine. I can’t count the number of mothers I’ve seen in my own experiences that openly and aggressively compete with their daughters (usually the eldest daughter if there’s more than one). It’s disturbing to say the least, and not uncommon to find them choosing a favourite between their children.

    What if the reason for the mother having bad feelings towards her child is the child’s fault for not having enough sabr?

    While that is a distinct possibility, given the rest of the scenarios presented below, that sounds almost like Stockholm Syndrome where the victim starts to sympathise with the aggressor’s position and sees them as justified in their actions.

    Let’s say once the child was an adult, they went back to try and fix things and create a relationship with the mother again. But the mother continued to emotionally condemn and hurt the person, but that the person tried to have sabr, and limited their visits with their mother just to keep the peace. What if one time, the person had to stay with the mother for over 5 days due to a specific circumstance. What if during this time, no matter how quiet the person tried to stay, the mother became increasingly irritated and angry with them and started saying horrible things. (And the sibling of the person took the mothers side also, saying that they don’t want that person in their lives anymore – there must be something wrong with the person then, right, and not the mother?)

    I disagree. It doesn’t necessarily imply that there is something wrong with the person. What it does suggest is that the mother has some issues relating to an association with the person in question. In other words, the mother could have been at a difficult time in her life when she gave conceived and/or gave birth to the child that is being pushed aside. As a result, especially in younger mothers, it’s not uncommon for them to project their own disappointments about life on the unborn or newborn child because it makes it easy for them to project their failures on the child instead of accepting responsibility for the choices they made. E.g. So if the mother had aspirations of building a career or having a certain amount of social freedom at that point in her life, and she ended up having an unplanned baby, in her weakness to acknowledge her own contribution to that situation, she would blame the baby for robbing her off those aspirations, and that blame, when nurtured for long enough, could become really toxic in their relationship in later years.

    Then what if the mother physically hurt the person in anger- as if they were a small child again- and what if this time the person just had enough and finally snapped, reacting back to the mother?
    Isn’t it the fault of that person for not having enough sabr with the situation? And now because of that, the mother is angry and holds an even bigger grudge than before and has now disowned that person from the family completely.
    So…. in Allah’s eyes, isn’t the person to blame, since the mother should always be respected and not shown anger towards?

    The person was bound to snap at some point, because as human beings, we have an inherent need for reciprocation, appreciation or gratitude. Our efforts must yield some beneficial results at some point or else we’re bound to snap out of anger at feeling incompetent or insignificant in the situation we’re trying to resolve. While being disrespectful towards a parent can never be condoned, I don’t believe there is anything wrong in maintaining a healthy distance in order to discourage a situation from arising that would lead to such disrespect becoming unavoidable. Islam is holistic in its approach to everything, and therefore, in this situation, the mother would need to fulfil her duties and responsibilities in order to enjoy the benefits of the elevated position that Islam affords her. In this case, the mother would always find a reason to justify her view about the merits and qualities of the person in question because she would need that to avoid taking accountability for her own actions that led up to the toxic situation between the two of them.

    And how would it work out on the day of judgement? Because ultimately it’s her word against the child’s and from the importance of the relationship with the mother in Islam, doesn’t that mean that the child of the mother has no chance on the day of judgement to enter Jannah? No matter how much the person repents, ultimately, isn’t it the word of the mother against theirs?

    I don’t think the Day of Judgement will be about one person’s word against another’s because all our deeds are clearly recorded. Our own bodies will act as witnesses against us, so no one’s opinion will carry weight on that day. Allah will judge fairly between the two, and we will not be held accountable for those situations that are out of our control. We will only be accountable for that which we could have done but didn’t do, within reasonable limits. 

    Of course Allah knows best, but I’m just wondering.

    P.s. At the same time though, the mother is a practicing Muslim, a kind and generous person in general. So it’s very confusing for the child, they wonder if it really is them with the problem, since the mother is a good person and practicing Muslim in general. So if that’s the case, does the child have any chance of entering Jannah, since the only time the mother becomes abusive and angry like this is when they are around. Therefore, there must be something wrong with that particular child of the mother’s, right?

    Again, it’s not necessarily due to a fault on the part of the child. Some parents, for whatever reason, just take a natural dislike and develop a very competitive relationship with their child/children. There’s nothing any child can do to change that because the one with the predominant power and influence is the parent. Until the child attains a level of independence and success as an adult, it’s hardly likely that the parent will see them differently. Even then, the parent could choose to continue seeing the child’s success as a result of their sacrifices rather than acknowledging their child’s efforts to make a good life for themselves. So the best is to just recognise the constraints and dynamics of the relationship for what it is, and take the needed steps to avoid further contention.

    This reminds me of the incident between the Prophet (SAW) and Wahshi, the man that killed Hamzah (RA). After asking him for an explanation of what happened, Rasulullah (SAW) forgave him and asked him never to show him his face again. The reason I’m reminded of this incident is because a similar theme could play out here. The person could accept that the current circumstances are just not conducive towards a healthy relationship with the parent, and so should avoid unnecessary contact without severing family ties. Insha-Allah in time, the absence and independent growth on both sides may lead to a thawing of the ice in the relationship and result in mutual respect developing, Ameen. 

    P.S. It’s normal for the favourite child to be sympathetic towards the parent’s views, until they reach an age of maturity where they are able to view the relationship more objectively.

  • Dua for parents and for pious children

  • This is all starting to feel too adult for me. I prefer playing with kids. They usually have no hidden agendas, political motives, or underhanded suspicions. If I imitate them, they’re happy, and if they imitate me, I’m happy, and we give and take without keeping score. All adults know is to be territorial as if puberty makes it compulsory for them to mark their territory. These adult games are ridiculous. Adults need to learn from children again, before the current template of adult role models all but eliminates any traces of the innocence of childhood.

    CJ

  • That Cultural Thing

    I once heard someone say something along the lines of:

    If you need government to protect your culture, then your culture is already dead

    These cultural appropriation-ists should consider this within a broader context. 

    Whether or not cultural appropriation is true, for me, is a side issue. The real issue is how did it get to the point where others felt comfortable enough to insult a culture without any fear of consequence? Relying on the respect of others is obviously a foolhardy exercise, but the moment you bend and sway in what you do or don’t practise in your own culture, you automatically end up taking from other cultures, or at best, contaminate your own culture to the point where it makes it fair game for others to do the same.

    Cultures have evolved and absorbed external influences for eons before the advent of the Internet, and as can be seen, the more connected we are, the greater the chances of cultural cross-contamination, if that is even a fair term to use. The surprising thing for me is how people are happy to cry foul when they see others ‘usurping’ their cultural heritage without due consideration for its roots and meanings, while they themselves openly embellish their lives with items or aspects from the culture of those they’re taking exception to. 

    This is all starting to feel too adult for me. I prefer playing with kids. They usually have no hidden agendas, political motives, or underhanded suspicions. If I imitate them, they’re happy, and if they imitate me, I’m happy, and we give and take without keeping score. All adults know is to be territorial as if puberty makes it compulsory for them to mark their territory. These adult games are ridiculous. Adults need to learn from children again, before the current template of adult role models all but eliminates any traces of the innocence of childhood. 

  • When people pull their face at the thought of picking up a crumb or a morsel of food that fell to the floor to clean it and eat it, I immediately see this picture in my mind. When yesterday’s left overs leave me feeling frustrated at the thought of having the same meal again, this photo creeps into my head. And worse still, when obese people plunge food down their throats in gluttonous volumes, and discard what they couldn’t finish because they reached the point of nausea, I think of this child.

    This child would probably develop the most beautifully calming smile, with excitement in his eyes, and gratitude in every breath if he were just allowed to share in the crumbs and left overs that so many of us discard out of embarrassment or extravagance, or greed and ingratitude. We’ve become too high class to eat crumbs off the floor, or to save left overs for later unless the left overs are from a distinctly extravagant or indulgent dish.

    There are times when the world leaves me feeling sick to my gut, and disillusioned at their fickle frailties. This is one of those times.

  • brain clutter

    The most important gifts parents can give their children has to be a healthy self-esteem, a moral grounding and an appreciation for principles. Parents that are liberal sicken me. Those that leave their children to develop their own views about life under the guise of not wanting to impose their own views of spirituality, religion and politics on them are idiots. 

    If kids were born with the maturity, logic and reasoning abilities to figure that out on their own, then why do we keep them under parental guidance until they’re 18? I have personally witnessed how kids and adults fall apart later in life because they lack the resilience to deal with a value system not of their own making, or one they do not subscribe to. And when it happens, we’re quick to apply labels to their state of mind so that we can compartmentalise and commercialise their ‘illness’. And the afflicted ones hold on to these labels because they need it to cope with their lack of control…they need it to feel alright about their weakened state without thinking they’re to blame, because the burden of responsibility is too great.

    So we focus on the symptoms, ignore the nonsensical selfish behaviour of the parents, and hope that the next generation will do a better job of figuring things out because wholesome traditional values are too oppressive or repressive or uncool to impose on our children…lest we forget that they make healthier choices if they have an informed base off of which to decide. 

    The noise…the fucking noise in my head…it makes even a bird’s beautiful chirp sound like a nagging shriek until I stop for long enough to realise it’s just the beautiful chirp of a beautiful bird…