I Almost Got Buried Alive
You were born to make a difference.
When I was a baby, my mom told me, It was raining night in Somalia. I didn’t throw a fuss like most babies do when born. It was a moment of a long silence in the room, so the Nurse midwife who was delivering me thought I was dead because I was taking way too long to sing the song: Hello,
it’s me.
Hello from the other side,
Now that I am outside
I wanna tell you I am sorry
For all the pain I caused
because soon I
started to burst into…
Adele, I love you. I try to sing like you but goodness gracious; I sound like a ghost even though songwriters and singers run in my family. But in paradise where each wish one desire is brought to life — trust me, singing as you will be on my radar.
Enough with my craziness. Back to the story.
My talented Nurse midwife prepared a white cloth to wrap me (the Muslim tradition use a white cloth to cover the deceased body). My mom watched me with grief and much pain as she said her goodbye.
The moment she started to wrap the white cloth, I burst into tears out of nowhere. I guess my mini self was like, hey yo hold up, get that piece of fabric out of my face; I got to rise and be light for many souls. My time isn’t up alright, Zahra, you gotta crank it up:)))) and I started to make my beatboxing-cry-like sound ( no wonder I have a crush on beatboxing ) and that joy I brought for my mother… you have to hear it from her!
But every time I look back at my story of how I got here, it reminds me of my purpose: To be a source of hope and bring lots of joy in the hearts of all of those who cross my path.
To be the reviver of light for someone who had hit rock-bottom. To be the hand that grabs the falling. And the heart that mends the broken, uplift the shattered.
God, I pray, You never let me lose sight of living that purpose because a life filled with servitude leads to a flourishing life in high altitude.
