MWC Space
Mustard Seeds
The might of change often lies in the simplest elements in life
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Dubai 2012,
Every positive has a negative
At the art academy, I learned how observing and studying the negative space can teach you everything about the positive space. This works well on canvas, but not in the life that I had to paint for myself every day. The moment I woke up in the morning and found out I was still alive, my daily struggle began all over again.
“Why am I still here?” is something I asked myself every single day before leaving for work. But I have to and need to blend in — pun intended.
When you lose hope, everything is meaningless and you become a blob, part of a bigger blob. Undefined and unidentifiable.
My negative space, which I became entirely immersed in, was nothing but tainted with unreasonable cultural ideals. I stopped drawing and being interested in art altogether. I had spent my entire childhood dreaming of studying art to become an artist. Gone, all gone — I had no drive, and my talents vanished shortly after my marriage. At this point in life, my positive space had no place in my negative space. That’s how I felt at the time. I was deeply depressed and wanted out of this life.
In the morning
I got out of bed when the alarm went off at 4:45 am, prayed, showered, had my coffee and waited for my second alarm to go off. At 5:45 am, it was time to go catch my ride to work.
My colleagues usually picked me up at 6:15 am. It took me 5 minutes to walk to my pick-up spot, but I needed to buy minutes to call my mother in Europe — so I had to leave earlier. I kissed and hugged my children goodbye and sprinted the house out. When I was about to close the door, my partner shouted, “Why are you always in a hurry?!” To avoid any conversations, I shut the door, pretending I didn’t hear.
I left — leaving behind a partner I despised, and children I felt I was oppressing by staying in a dreadful marriage. One that was doomed to fail the day he proposed.
I pressed the elevator button and waited impatiently. Not long now until I get to my sanctuary [the elevator] and get in touch with my positive space. The heartwarming tune played when the elevator arrived and my eyes could not wait longer. I started crying while stepping into my sanctuary.
This was the most precious time of my day. Here in that elevator, I felt safe. I cry and contemplate, sometimes pray for a way out.
What was a 2 minute trip to the ground floor, for me, was a lifetime.
Sometimes, I would leave earlier and take a double ride. I go down, “remember“ I forgot something, go back up to buy more time for my positive space. This is anything but pathetic. It was all I needed every day to get my life started.
I wipe my tears away before I leave my sanctuary and put a smile on. Back to my negative space.
The alley
Abdullah, the grocery shop assistant, was opening the doors as I was walking towards the shop. I greeted him and asked how his mother was. By the time he charged my phone and told me about his mother in Palestine, it was already 6:05 am.
My colleagues would kill me if I didn’t make it on time. I thanked him and dashed out of the shop. On my way to the parking lot, I smelled something. I walk past this Indian restaurant every day and have never smelled this aroma. Strange.
I looked at the time, and it was precisely 6:08 am. I had to pick up the pace and hurry — I can’t be late for work. My family relied on my income. I cannot fail. What is that aroma? I have never smelled this before.
Walking fast in my clogs was uncomfortable. I walked into the alley that led towards the parking lot.
What is that little girl doing lying on the ground? Silly kids. Who plays hide and seek so early in the morning? Let me go tell her to go home.
As I got closer, I saw blood coming out of her mouth. My own fearful past haunted me, and I thought someone had raped her, then got rid of her tiny, fragile body.
I ran towards her, and there was a fly sitting on her face. The blood was almost dry. She was motionless and not breathing.
I screamed in horror and looked for help while running towards the parking lot. A big white SUV stopped and rolled its window down — the man driving the car asked me what’s wrong. I told him what I saw and without thinking twice, he pressed the gas pedal and started to drive away, telling me to call emergency. How can a human be that insensitive?
I ran towards the parking lot; it was now 6:12 am and my colleague had just arrived. I ran towards her screaming and crying hysterically. I yelled at her to come. She, not being a morning person, was dragging her feet and loathing the walk. I screamed my lungs out and said, “There’s a dead girl in the alley!” She ran towards her and sat down next to her, crying. Then she covered her with a shawl she was wearing. “She’s gone, she’s gone,” she repeated while weeping.
I looked at the little girl and whispered, “Why you and not me?”
My colleague started crying louder and asked me to get assistance.
I sent a voice note to every colleague I had the phone number of, asking for help. No one responded.
The rest of our colleagues, who I drive to work with, arrived and started to panic, wail and cry for help.
What is happening? This is too much for me, from days of feeling senseless and desperate for a way out to the complete opposite. My positive space is starting to feel different.
The aroma wouldn’t leave my negative space. It broke into my positive space as well.
The alley started filling with people. A woman came towards the scene and started crying, too. The little girl was her neighbour.
The ambulance finally arrived after 3 failed phone call attempts. For a multicultural city like Dubai, I found it strange that they didn’t understand English and kept hanging up on me.
The paramedics confirmed she must have fallen out of the window. She lived on the 11th floor of her building.
“Baby girl, what did you do to yourself?” I whispered, not noticing the paramedic had heard me. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, she died in the air before she even hit the ground. She looks about 3 years old, her heart couldn’t take the shock,” he responded. Did he say better?
Apart from the tiny amount of blood coming from her mouth, she looked unharmed by the fall. I like to believe angels carried her body down.
Oh, baby girl.
Life was never the same again
The child’s mother arrived at the alley and was immediately in denial of the death of her daughter.
She asked each and everyone to wake her up. “You murdered her! How could you do this to your baby?! You don’t deserve to be a mother!!” I yelled at her furiously. “Can you please wake her up?” she asked me again. There was no point in being angry at her. I hugged her and told her she would wake up in a better place.
The restaurant opened and Southeast Asian men went for their breakfast and not long after the police arrived, we were asked to clear from the scene.
We got into the car and one of the colleagues I sent the voice notes to called me. He said he was sleeping and wasn’t in Dubai anymore. I apologised, but he stayed on to console me. He was very empathetic and attentive towards my state. Little did I know of what the future was holding for me. I hung up as soon as we arrived at work.
Only God knows how my day went by. All I knew was I had found solace in this day. I couldn’t wait to go back to the elevator and contemplate and reflect. My children and partner called me. He said I sounded different.
To me, that meant everything.
At 3:00 pm, I clocked out and was ready to go home. I stepped into the car and heard nothing of what my colleagues were saying, nor was I making an effort to pay attention. My colleague dropped me off, got out of the car and told me “Today our lives have changed. Remember, everything happens for a purpose. You can do this.”
She was right. That day I saw purpose.
I walked into my building, pushed the elevator button, and waited to enter my sanctuary. This time I walked in strong — with purpose. The doors closed, and I planned a whole new life.
The same week I asked for a divorce, hired a stay-in nanny for my children, a maid to help with all the house chores to spend more time with my children. My purpose was me. I found purpose, and my positive space stands out from my negative space, again.
Since this incident, I could smell the same aroma every time I passed by the alley. I would take a deep breath to smell the aroma and walk towards the spot where I found the girl. I greeted and thanked her every day — I still do. This became a daily ritual. She is in a sacred place now.
I continued working in Dubai until 2017. Before I left the country, I paid a visit to the restaurant by the alley to ask about the aroma. It was mustard seeds being fried.
It took an aroma to provoke my senses and pull my spirit back. The girl’s death to bring purpose and my daily elevator trips to seal everything together.
I stand out in my negative space — my painting is complete.
Nothing went wrong from then on. I was never forced to blend in again — I stand out because I do.
My life couldn’t get any better — I got remarried to the only person who responded to my voice note during the incident. He was there for me then and here for me now.
Baby girl, I love you. May you find peace and love where you are.Thank you.
Thank you for staying around. Until next time, be kind.
Jay
