Making History

Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem

Waseem: The Right Way...

Often, you don’t recognize the biggest days of your life. Not until it’s already happening. The day you commit to something… Or the day you make it big-time… The day you meet your destiny.

Or the day you realise the truth about this world… Because you foolishly thought you could live forever, when you were always told that nothing’s meant to last…

Whatever event it is… That’s the thing with making history. It’s always in the making. And for me, all the making was just on one day.

And right then, as I sprinted towards the house that I had come to know fairly well during the past few months, I just had a feeling that it was going to be a day that I would probably not forget very easily.

Besides almost bubbling over with anger, the anxiety about the outcome was killing me. How was I going to end this open onslaught? How would they deal with this vicious insult… This ripping apart of their home for no other reason other than Dad’s plans to build more and more?

I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Fortunately, there was no car in the driveway. I was at least grateful that the man who owned these things didn’t have to witness this undignified removal.

I scanned the yard, immediately seeing the guy I was looking for. They called him Ossie and he was my Dad’s go-to guy. He always did Dad’s odd jobs, and especially intervened when it came to things of this nature. You name it, and he would deliver.

I manoeuvred my way into the house where he was going, calling out his name to try and get his attention. He turned around to face me, looking confused at first. I supposed it took him a few seconds to realise who I was, but he eventually did.

“Waseem?” He asked, cracking a smile.

I nodded, greeting him. Straight to business, I reminded myself.

“Uncle O, please halt this operation,” I said seriously. “Your guys need to start putting everything back.”

He frowned, shaking his head.

“Strict orders, boss,” he said. “He’ll finish me if I leave without doing this job.”

I had to do something. I had to make it end. It was time to pull out the draw card.

“I’ll sort you out, don’t worry,” I said, feeling slightly nauseated. “My father will understand the situation.”

He was still reluctant.

Money. I mean after all, it was all that mattered, right? Without talking rates, nothing gets done. I could always have threatened him in ways that I knew would work, but somehow, I just didn’t want it to get ugly. Firearms weren’t meant for this kind of business. Here in Pretoria, it was just the cause of more killing and gangster business going on. I had to be responsible.

I pulled out whatever cash I had, making sure he could see that I was armed so he wouldn’t try any tricks to get me out. Obviously with a promise of more cash still to come, I finally began to see some enthusiasm. I was disgusted.

Firstly, with myself, because I had become a part of it, and secondly, because I had forgotten the way of the world. Being on a different path of life had got me deluded… It had got me thinking that the whole world had changed, when it actual fact, when you move on, everything else stays exactly where you had left it.

I only wished that I could make people see where the real riches lay. I wished that they could trash the idea that it was in the massive houses, luxury super cars and branded clothing that they bought. I wish people could stop worshipping the idols of this world, like their Smart Phones, shoes and handbags that they would probably die without.

It was a fact. We made idols of these things, making them such objects of extreme importance, when it actual fact, every thing that we see around us is just going to turn to dust. Every silly sentimental ornament, or expensive gift… The gold and diamonds of the world that we hold so much value to… It will all just become dust. Just powdery, useless dust.

And about the real wealth, people don’t care. The wealth that is invested with your Lord is eternal. Those hours spent in repentance and worship can never be a waste. The disregard for this world will always avail you… Because what awaits after, can never compare.

And no-one could put it better than our Prophet (SAW) saying:

A proclaimer will proclaim: “For you there is everlasting health, and you will never be sick. For you there is everlasting life, and you will never die. For you there is perpetual youth, and you will never get old. And for you there is everlasting bliss, and you will never be in want. (Muslim)

SubhaanAllah. It is truly humanity’s real abode… A place in which there will be no human imperfection. We can never imagine… And yet we still prefer this temporary life over the promises of Jannah.

I shook my head, letting the feelings of putridness dissolve.

This was the last thing I wanted to happen. I felt like an invader in these people’s house. I didn’t know how my father did these things, most of the time for no apparent reason.

It was just as well that they weren’t at home, because I would have hated for them to witness this.

I facilitated the quick replacing of furniture, as best as I could remember. The guys left quickly, eager to be let off early, and I stayed back while Ziyaad helped to re-arrange final bits in the main home area. He was actually behaving himself for once, and it was quite something to see how much my brother had grown up.

Ziyaad, my previously ‘idiot younger brother’, was actually growing into a man. And not the disagreeable, obsessed man I had feared. Allah had looked at him with such a mercy that I could see his whole life changing, and it was yet another reminder of how Du’aa could change anything.

We finished off, glad that the car wasn’t back yet, and hoping that I wouldn’t catch them on the way out. I wasn’t sure what exactly I would say or how we would explain ourselves, so I ushered Ziyaad out and followed him toward the door as quickly as possible. And it was just as well that they didn’t reach the other rooms as yet, because just as we were about to step out, a voice caught us completely unawares.

” ‘Salaamalaykum.”

The voice was soft, but loud enough for us to hear. We both spun around to see a youngish girl, covered modestly and not even looking at us, just at the passage entrance. I looked away. Had she been standing there all that time? 

A new anger rised up, realising that they were probably in the house all this time. How could they intrude with these girls alone at home? It was just so unethical. I knew this was something I was going to confront my father about. Just thinking about what could have happened, made me so angry.

They literally broke into their home. No consideration at all.

At that moment, I was seeing red, but I had to focus on what this girl was saying.

“My sister… Erm… She says to tell you’ll… Um…”

The girl was probably in  her early teens, so I could understand her hesitation. I mean, she had probably never spoken to a guy before, and now she had to face two who were in her own personal space. Leave alone that, the one was shamelessly ogling her, completely unaware of how unsettling it was for this chic.

I whacked Ziyaad on the back of his head, hoping he would get the hint and stop being so damn audacious. He was acting like he’d never seen a girl before. The poor girl was looking terrified.

“My sister says to, er, w-wait for Abbi,” she finally stammered, and literally spun around to run back to the room.

I looked at Ziyaad and he smirked at me, looking slightly apologetic.

“Idiot,” I said, shaking my head at him, and turning around again.

All this time I was on edge, but now that the girl mentioned her father, I felt like the whole world’s weight was on my shoulders.

Despite what she said, I really wanted to get out of there before he came. I just couldn’t face him after everything. There was too much history… Too much to be said. I didn’t know if I had it in me to go through with it. I just hoped they wouldn’t hold us accountable for my father’s selfish actions.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said, literally pulling Ziyaad with me as I walked down the verandah, eager to escape.

What?” Ziyaad was saying, stubborn as ever. “You heard her the lady, bru. She said to wait.”

He didn’t know what this could all bring… And the truth was, neither did I. I had just stepped down the stair and started to open the gate, when the familiar white Toyota pulled in, with the man in question looking directly at us, a strange look on his face.

History resurfaces. Sometimes we can change things, and sometimes we can’t. Sometimes we have a choice.

So, we had to remember, the most important thing, was the history we’re making right now.

Make it good… Make it the right way. But most importantly, make it the way you want to remember.

5 thoughts on “Making History

  1. Absolutely! جزاك الله خيرا for a wonderful, thought-provoking post… Seems like Zayna is finally ready to give Waseem a chance 😉 Constant recitation of the kalimah لا إله إلا الله with true concentration and ikhlaas will slowly take out the love of any other ‘ٳلاه’ besides ٲلله from our hearts. May Allah grant us the ability to practice آمين.


  2. I once witnessed the red ants empty a building in pretoria cbd..all the flats furniture,clothing,crockery u name it were thrown out-they closed two streets…I assumed the residents were at work..and just as I drove pass it started raining..very sad I was very disturbed..


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