Kanafani, Brontë & A New Shot at Life
Thoughts after 1 month living and working alone
“لك شيء في هذا العالم، فقم!” — غسان كنفاني
Curled up with a good book, I sat enjoying a quiet Sunday evening in my little slice of heaven here in Abu Dhabi. I have barely spoken all weekend, but it’s a full-on party in my head…
فقم!
Months ago, when the earth shook beneath my home in Turkey, I woke up… not just from sleep, but from a quiet existence. A happy but passive life. Living on the margin, content to help people who do not need me but are too kind to say so. What if I died then? or now? who will remember me? what have I done to make someone pray for me?
Painfully shy, I crawled out of my shell and tentatively reached out — for the first time in my life — to someone I admire. And they have been kinder and more generous than I deserve. So here I am. In my new home, more than two thousand miles away from my family, employed by people building things that will change life as we know it. Alhamdulellah.
“Time brought resignation, and a melancholy sweeter than common joy.” — Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights
It’s been more than 10 years since I last lived alone. This time, independence is beautiful but it has an undertone of pain brought by thoughts of what could have been; like an ignored migrane in the middle of a busy day. A dull, nagging pain in the background. Yet it’s a pain that means dignity, a proof to those who questioned my worth. I’ll take it any day.
“Yet it would be your duty to bear it, if you could not avoid it: it is weak and silly to say you cannot bear what it is your fate to be required to bear.” — Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre
And so I thank God for everything, his tests have been increasingly difficult, but his generousity to me now is beyond all my prayers. I could never thank Him enough.
