Tag: society

  • The Pretentiousness of Self-Doubt

    Self-doubt, it seems, is insecurity cloaked in anxiety. It occurred to me one morning on my way to work this week that each time I witnessed someone in the throes of an anxiety attack, there was an underlying sense of grave insecurity that left them helpless to deal with even fleeting thoughts of burdens they couldn’t stand the thought of bearing.

    This same pretentiousness drives me to write, or to ramble. This pretence that if I spew these words, it will relieve me of the burden of realisation that accompany them. It doesn’t. I read, quite uninterestedly, the numerous reminders about death. Reminders intended to spur us into action before that moment arrives when we stare inevitability in the face pleading for one more chance to do everything we always promised ourselves we’d do before we got old. But those reminders don’t remind me, they only taunt me.

    They taunt me because they remind me not of death, but rather of my eager anticipation of it since my youngest years. And as I grew older, I grew more tired of the wait and the anguish of not knowing when. When I was 22, I revelled in the deep-seated certainty that I would not live beyond 23, and so I immersed myself in this promise of tomorrow not always holding true. Until I lived beyond that age and felt cheated out of the promise of peace.

    But this is not about death. Nor is it about life. It’s about the lies we tell ourselves for so long that eventually we even convince others that it’s true about us. It starts out with a simple insecurity, or a simple doubt about something inconsequential, but usually larger than life because of the audience rather than the deed. It starts out when we’re unconsciously focused on how we’re to be seen by another, instead of how capable we are. That’s when the paralysing fear of incompetence sets in and convinces us that it’s safer to hold back, than it is to push forward because ridicule is far more painful than an insignificant success.

    And so the circle of doubt is formed. There are many that nurture it to the point of debilitation, while others stop short at instant gratification. Instantly gratifying themselves with puny accomplishments and denying themselves the opportunity to excel beyond mediocrity. More than the debilitated ones, I pity the mediocre amongst us. They hinder us in our quest for excellence or fulfilment, because they’re always pandering to the accolades of the feeble minded. Meanwhile, their appearance of confidence in their mediocre endeavours feed that self-doubt until they reach a point in life when the lies are just not convincing any longer. That’s when the fear of being discovered lurks just beneath the skin of the faces of those pretending to be the shadow of their true selves.

    Most of us will die never realising our true potential. Worse still, most of us will die not having anyone believe in our true potential. That we will die is inevitable. That we will live is highly doubtful.

    My sincerest condolences to the sorry soul that can relate to the incoherent rant that I just attempted to disguise as a meaningful post.

  • Freedom of Speech, etc.

    After seeing a headline in a local community newspaper this afternoon, it suddenly struck me why Muslims, in their current approach, will always be on the defensive when debating issues of freedom of speech or expression. The headline read something like, ‘Freedom of Speech, or Freedom to Blaspheme’. It was that last word that caught my attention.

    You see, when we accuse someone of blasphemy, there seems to be an underlying assumption that they hold dear what we hold dear. Or at the least, they respect what we respect. For this reason, we will forever be mocked by the irreverent few that take much pride and joy in mocking us. Why? I think it’s actually quite simple. We’re so drawn into defending and protecting the rituals of Islam, that we’ve failed dismally to demonstrate beyond any reasonable doubt why we proclaim Islam to be so beautiful, and worthy of respect.

    If I look around and see how entertainers garner respect even by people that do not normally take to such forms of entertainment, I notice that what is usually accompanied by such respect is an appreciation for the effort and skill that goes into that art form that is presented as entertainment. Hardly seems like a worthy comparison considering the mainstream Muslim views on entertainment, but bear with me. Note, I said Muslim views, not Islamic views, which is an inherent part of this problem. We’ve become so obsessed with point-in-time interpretations about what Islam stood for or represented during an era many centuries ago, that we’ve given up the principles that those wise scholars extrapolated their rulings from, and instead turned their guidance into ritualistic observations subscribed to by sects.

    How does this play into the hands of those that criticise Muslims for their supposed intolerance, or as some would like to believe, their bronze-aged-myths? Again, it’s really simple. When you become a ritualist, expect it to lead you down the path towards blind following. When you become a blind follower, it’s inevitable that intolerance will set in when others fail to see the merits of your rituals, especially when you’re incapable of explaining the principles and real-world value from such rituals. And that is the problem with most Muslims. They fail to see this connection. Look at the mobs and the out-of-hand protests that violate the very same principles and direct injunction of the same way of life, including the blessed personality that they profess to be defending and it’s easy to see how lost we are as an Ummah.

    Fortunately there are an increasing number of informed voices of a youth that appear to be inspired by the truth as they experience it, and as they can rationalise it based on a clear understanding and study of the most pristine sources of Islam that are speaking out against this ignorance. There are many difficult debates to still be had, but the fact that the aloofness of the present-day scholars is now being openly questioned instead of being blindly venerated is a clear sign that we’re finally emerging from the slump of cult-ish behaviour that we’ve immersed ourselves into from fear of getting things wrong.

    So freedom of speech, according to its present-day practice, is very likely, and somewhat justifiably, going to be exercised in a manner that can be deemed blasphemous by many. However, they can only successfully ridicule that which we hold sacred if we conduct ourselves in a manner that feeds such ridicule. There will always be irreverent idiots out there that despite the most convincing arguments, will always arrogantly hold fast to their ideologies that justify such condescension and ridicule even where none is justified, but the irony is that they are in fact a reflection of the behaviour of many Muslims today, just with the absence of faith in Allah. Perhaps when those mainstream Muslims realise this, they may just allow themselves an opportunity to think, rationalise, and appreciate the true beauty of what Islam offers them, rather than just stubbornly observing rituals without any consideration or understanding for its intended purpose.

    I could continue for hours on end discussing the contradictions between what Muslim claim to stand for these days, versus what their actions reveal, but I don’t think it’s necessary. The fact that we’re fair game for ridicule these days proves this point sufficiently.

  • The Sadness of Depression

    The sad part of depression is that you cannot choose happiness for the one that is depressed. It is a choice that only they themselves can make. My attempts at raising the spirits of those that seem downtrodden or just down often leaves me questioning my competence and my significance. But such questioning only lasts as long as it takes for me to realise that it’s not about me, nor are the choices mine to make. I sometimes think the greatest gift to a depressed soul is acting out their potential in plain view of them, without throwing it in their face, regardless of the motivation. But then again, maybe not, because it can so easily be mistaken for antagonism or condescension.

    I’ve slipped into that trap of condescension many times, despite it never being deliberate. That trap where I go off on a tangent and lecture others about why they should have no reason to be depressed, while forgetting that depression is simply a secondary emotion. It is the cloak of what lies beneath. It’s the guard that keeps us safe from facing what we truly fear. At least it has been for me on many occasions. The underlying fear of rejection, or potential of being insignificant kept me recoiled in the safe space that I created for myself. Worse still, the fear of failure on a grand scale that would rob me of any shards of credibility that I was clinging to.

    But it’s so easy to forget all that when I see myself reflected in the weary grimaces of others. Because I’ve seemingly risen above my last entanglement with the darkness, my ego drives me to believe that I’m in a position to tell others how to do it. I’m not. I never was. And I suddenly regret every indulgence that led me to spew unsolicited advice to those that seemed to be in a space darker than my own. I know it’s not what I needed. I know it’s not what turned the tables for me, because no matter how much someone says about the right things to do to escape that darkness, it was only when I detached myself from the experiences that weighed me down that I realised that the experience didn’t define me. The callous or crass behaviour of others was not a reflection of my worth. It was simply an insight into their weaknesses and fears. But they projected it on me, and I was a willing victim because I didn’t believe I was worth any more than they allowed me to be.

    I was wrong. In more ways than one, I was wrong. Sometimes getting it wrong turned out beautifully, and sometimes it drove me further away from reality. But getting it wrong was never the end of the road. It was always the beginning of a new one.

  • South Africa, A Nation Under Siege

    We had a security incident at our home tonight. It was literally a minute before midnight when I was prodded out of bed by the sound of the siren for the electric fencing screaming. In typical fashion, I loitered, somewhat from being disorientated because I was in a deep sleep, and partially because it takes me some time to completely snap into crisis mode. I slowly worked through the process of switching on the outside lights, then getting my firearm out of the safe, and then making my way to the security gate that separates our bedrooms from the main living area of the house. In between I vaguely recall going to the bathroom first before finally making my way over to the back of the house to see what was happening.

    When I pushed my curtains back, I saw an owl that could easily have been almost two feet tall standing on the parapet of the outside room. I shone the torch straight at it, and it looked at me as if I was wrong for having electric fence. I suspected that the owl had tried to sit on the top strand of the fence but caused the two strands to short circuit because of its weight, resulting in the screeching siren in the middle of the night. But this is South Africa, so you’re an idiot that’s just asking for it if you don’t make sure that all is relatively safe before you step into your own back yard at that time of the night. So I waited patiently for the security company to send out a response vehicle before venturing outside. Unfortunately, due to a poor installation by a fly-by-night contractor who was an ex-cop, my control unit for the electric fence is located in the outside room with no direct access from inside the house. It’s also not wired up to the main alarm system, which means it gets armed and disarmed independently.

    A long 20 minutes later the security company arrived by which time the alarm had been screeching for almost half an hour. I expected to receive a call from the neighbours, but no such thing happened. Not even a light was switched on. But, this is South Africa, so we’re either immune to the sound of house alarms in the middle of the night, or we’re too afraid to get involved for fear of our lives.

    I did the walkabout around the house with the armed response guy and confirmed that the top strands had shorted. We sorted it out, I reset the electric fence, and it was back to being armed and ready to irritate again. Throughout this ordeal, my mother paced restlessly in her room in the cottage in my back yard, while my wife who is an American ex-pat got her first taste of the anxiety that South Africans have grown accustomed to. If it wasn’t for the two of them, I would not have given a second thought to the incident, but realising how it affected them reminded me of exactly what hell South Africans deal with on a daily basis. However, because there’s a constant threat to our safety, we’ve grown accustomed to living at a heightened level of stress and fear.

    At that moment, when the vulnerability showed on my wife’s face, something inside me cursed deeply. It cursed the corrupt government, the inept officials that lead the police force, and it cursed the arrogance of the likes of Nathi Mthetwa and his fallen comrades who were unceremoniously dismissed from their posts after finally being exposed as the corrupt thieves that they are. The average South African burns a significant portion of their monthly income on security related services and equipment just to feel ok, not safe. High walls, electric fence, armed response, firearms (if you’re fortunate enough to have been granted a license), satellite tracking, anti smash and grab window tinting, security spikes, security gates, and the list goes on. Until recently, even those inept police officers were getting their police stations guarded by private security companies, yet we have an arrogant minister and president that believes that South Africa is safe!

    I don’t quite care about the political correctness of this article, but under apartheid, at least we knew what we were dealing with. There was a sense of community and a sense of real safety in our neighbourhoods. The most drastic measures we ever had to take was to setup neighbourhood watch groups, and then also, it was manned by the teenage boys of the area because the threat was mainly to property and not to persons. The crime associated with property theft has grown increasingly violent and sadistic since 1994, and news reports on a daily basis proves that criminals are not only getting more creative in their efforts to terrorise people, but are also getting more brazen in their attacks on both private individuals and police officers alike. And all the while our incompetent minister continues wreaking of arrogance and incompetence, while proclaiming that the police are winning the fight against crime.

    Too many South Africans have grown complacent, and are still so stuck in the past that they fail to see the country rolling downhill as a dung ball gathering mass until it settles as a heap of manure at the bottom of the hill of progress, with a finely inscribed label made of the most extravagant materials saying ‘Failed State’. I hate what the ANC has done to this country, and every person that heaps unrestrained praise on the ANC-led government for how they’ve pulverised this country into a stink-hole of morbidity needs to have their IQ retested so that we can find a spot for them in a suitable institution. Hopefully for them funding for that institution won’t be cut because of yet another scandal of untold billions of rands having been squandered or simply unaccounted for.

    This is not what we protested for in 1976, nor what we protested for in 1984. This is not what I aspired to have as my quality of life in this country when I got my first job and started paying my taxes. We give idiots a soap box to spew racial filth disguised as affirmative action and then cry when we see senseless crimes being perpetrated. We’re focusing on rewriting history by spending billions on establishing monuments and renaming roads, highways and cities while law and order is having to be upheld by the citizens and private security industries of this country at the expense of the ordinary South African who still gets taxed on those security measures that are needed because government is not doing its job to protect its citizens. It’s ludicrous!

    There are exceptions to every rule, and that is what is shameful about South Africa. The exceptions are all that’s left in the offices of public service while the norm is to deploy overpaid fat cat cadres to do the jobs of real public servants. While I’m fully aware and I acknowledge the presence of some level of competence in the public offices of this country, without which we would have arrived at the bottom of that proverbial hill already, but just because we have a semblance of competence in isolated areas of government in no way provides justification for the continued presence in office of a largely corrupt and incompetent government. We need change and we need it soon, and waiting for people with weak zips and dripping shower heads to provide that change is tantamount to signing your own death warrant. They’re too incompetent to even run their personal affairs with dignity, so how on earth are they ever going to be capable of maintaining the dignity of the ordinary South African?

  • Those Invertebrates Again

    The disjointed thought patterns are back. Just as I was starting to revel in the experience of being able to think in whole sentences again, it all came to an ungraceful stop today. No. It did not come to a stop, I stopped it. I stopped it because I was tired of the same routine, the same cycle, the same deja moo. You know, those moments when you feel like you’ve heard this bullshit before? That was me today, and yesterday. Oh, hold on, it was last week as well, but I wasn’t paying too much attention back then because my natural defences kicked in and I shut out the noise, like  most people do these days.

    The only words that teeter on the tip of my lips right now, threatening to escape through my fingers, are expletives. Joyous, wonderful, and indulgent vulgarities, because that is all that I can muster to describe the contempt with which I view many people right now. A herd of perfectly postured invertebrates pretending to be sincere while desperately creating smokescreens to hide their pathetic incompetence and unethical behaviour. I need to scream a primal scream that causes a mountain to crumble to ashes so that I can finally let go of the frustration that mounts within me while I wait for people to be true to their stated convictions. I fittingly and deliberately plagiarised that imagery from one such invertebrate I had the misfortune of believing in. But that’s a whinge for another lifetime.

    There has to be a point to this post other than just a rant. If I don’t make a meaningful point, it will reduce my self-esteem to nothingness at the realisation that I just succumbed to the same pathetic pointless existence as most of them. Yes, them. Those oxygen thieves that stop at nothing to secure their selfish needs without any consideration for the sequence of events that they set in motion. A sequence of events that always tramples on the disenfranchised (I can’t believe I just used that liberal bullshit term) while pompously patting themselves on their blubbery backs.

    I despise the world tonight. No, I despise the psychopaths that wear masks pretending to be human when in fact they’re simply parasites in expensive suits worn as a superficial skin that presents a notion of dignity, without conscience.

    This is a haphazard rant. I haven’t been this self-indulgent in a long time. I hate that I work with people that make such indulgence necessary to begin with. But my saving grace is the fact that having a need to vent confirms that I have yet to give up my passion for what I believe in and hold dear. So to hell with the spineless swines. I will not become complacent to be party to their despicable agendas. I really sound like an idealistic teenager sometimes. Damn!

  • 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.

  • Is this the real life…

    I’ve been faced with a daunting realisation these last few days. Perhaps I’m not so average after all. I’m not better, nor am I worse, but I’m starting to realise that I’m probably just fundamentally different. This may sound like a romantic notion to some, but to me this is potentially life altering. The reason it has such an impact on me is because it calls to question every observation or piece of advice that I ever offered anyone. If my disposition and point of departure is so significantly different from most others, it means that my criticisms and insights are distinctly biased and potentially useless for most of the people that I ever engage with.

    These are troubling thoughts for someone that has found much comfort in being able to offer advice to others so that they may avoid the mistakes that I’ve made. But this realisation now suggests that my mistakes are not likely to be repeated by others because I am not part of the normal crowd. I guess in many ways I’ve been resisting this realisation all my life. I’ve thought of myself as normal but different. Now I just think I’m different, and I’m not sure I grasp the concept of normal at all. I doubt I ever did.

    My ability to detach my emotions from reason is a quirk not appreciated by most. It helps in times of crisis, but it causes me to look distinctly uninterested and often annoyed when others are freaking out while I fail to see a reason to freak out just yet. Given that most people don’t live in true crisis mode all the time, it makes this skill of mine somewhat tedious to deal with. And surrounding myself with people that are in fact living in crisis mode continually will just drain the last drop of optimism from my gut. So I guess I’m in limbo.

    Silence is the only comfort I seem to enjoy these days. Everything else demands a presence of mind and a demand of my attention that has become quite an effort. I’m distracted most of the time with thoughts of…everything. What was, what is, what might be, what might not be, what could have been, what should have been, what I’m glad hasn’t been, and it goes on. It goes on painfully and tediously. But through it all I’ve managed to remain somewhat functional and able to offer some purpose in my presence. The more I experience, the more jaded is my response to life.

    Is this what a mid-life crisis feels like? No, it can’t be. If it were, it would negate the realisation that prompted this post to begin with. I look at others my age and I struggle to relate to their frame of mind. In some ways I relate to the mind set of those 15 years my junior, but I find myself at odds with how they approach their sense of purpose in  life. I’m disjointed from society, from the community, and often from my family. But I’ve been revelling in that disjointedness until now under the misconception of it having been a valuable skill that allowed me to view the world with a fresh perspective.

    Who was I fooling all this time? I’m cynically jaded. There is no fresh perspectives for a jaded one. Suddenly Bohemian Rhapsody is mocking me.

  • In Need of a Label

    Sometimes I feel inclined to succumb to the labelling that makes others feel more comfortable to be with me or around me. Perhaps I should be the stereotype that is expected of me, and assume the position of vulnerability and neediness that would make others feel more significant around me. Labels, stigmas, stereotypes and the like repulse me. It forces me into a pigeon hole and makes me feel smothered and claustrophobic.

    It’s seemingly easier for me to deal with others that don’t fit the mould than it is for others to deal with me. I don’t tow the line when I’m expected to, and I don’t reserve opinion when it would be proper or polite. Instead, at this ripe old age, I still fail to realise that sincerity is not what is being sought, but rather affirmation. Saying the right thing at the wrong time has probably gotten more people in trouble than anything else.

    Such is the double standards of being human. We choose to see others through our insecurities and then lash out when they respond in a way that exposes it. I’m probably a prick of a human being because I don’t see fit to play along out of obligation when needed to do so. I assume that others are as passionate about the truth, sincerity and transparency as I am, and I’ll repeat that as many times as is needed despite knowing how arrogant it must sound.

    Proclaiming not to be arrogant isn’t the same as professing to be humble, which as they say is arrogance in itself. The absence of arrogance is not necessarily humility, nor is the absence of humility arrogance. Both are in fact perspectives that others hold of us which most often would not be true because it’s easier for me to dismiss someone else as being arrogant instead of accepting that I may have failed to engage meaningfully or explained myself sufficiently. This doesn’t excuse the behaviour of those that are inconsiderate morons who assume that the world revolves around them, although having said that, I get the nagging feeling that I just contradicted myself.

    This is a pointless ramble.