I wake up Saturday morning of Oct 14th; I check my FB page, I am shocked to see the news of a massive explosion in Mogadishu. The pictures resemble an aftermath of an airstrike that demolished a whole neighborhood. There's no time for a panic attack, I quickly check with my sister in Mogadishu and ask if everyone was okay. I am especially worried about my little brother who's cordial and ever socializing.
Everyone from my immediate family was okay. Alhumdulilah.
I go on a hiking trip planned with friends. We discuss the news of Xamar Cadeey briefly. I go on autopilot mode; I think of all the what-ifs. The hiking starts and finishes while the picture of the explosion is alive in my head.
I go home and call Hoyoo (mother). Hoyoo says she was on a bus coming back from University, not very far from the place where the explosion took place. 'it was like an earthquake' she says. 'it shaken the whole city to the core, the city was sinking in black smoke.' 'two men who were riding the bus with me were very anxious and distressed; they started screaming at the bus driver to stop stopping at his usual stops in fear of a second explosion.' "Do not risk and waste our lives for 2000 shilling (almost $3.4) brother' they said, the bus driver didn't listen and continued following his normal route.'
Hoyoo mentioned another lady who got on the bus a few minutes later. She said 'when the explosion happened I was striding few inches away from the place where it happened, I had to check and touch my head couple of times to make sure everything was intact, I couldn't believe I wasn't bleeding."
As mother uttered these words, my horror grew more profound; my body felt number. My hoyoo was a few minutes away from the place of the deadly explosion that haunted few hundreds of our dear souls. Those dead humans had families that worried about them; a daughter like me may have checked on her mother, but her Hoyoo wasn't anywhere to be found. A sister checked on her brother, and she was directed to the hospital where he may or may not be alive. Hundreds are still buried under the rubles. Hundreds were blown up to pieces, and they will never have the honor to be buried as a whole. Hundreds are in life-threatening situation battling death in hospitals that are underfunded, unequipped, and with limited resources. Their blood is everywhere. Their bodies scattered into all directions. Many souls ascended to meet their creator Allah on Oct 14th, 2017.
What will those souls report to Allah, their creator, the one who placed them on earth? Will they talk about the harshness and cruelty of humans; fellow humans who were brainwashed to believe it was a noble cause to terrorize a whole city and explode a truck full of explosions?
Will they talk about how they fought the fear of death and decided to believe in our city and met their end in a restaurant while sipping cappuccino ? in a hotel while chilling with friends and batchmates? in a bus transit where they were headed for school or the market?
What will they say to Allah Sunhanhu wa ta'ala about the injustice that cut their lives short? About the wickedness of humans? About the grieve that will dissect the bereaved mother of four son's heart into million pieces every single minute? About the father who was flying to Mogadishu to attend his daughter's graduation instead attends her funeral?
When my family was deciding to move to Mogadishu, I encouraged my parents to make the move. Mogadishu is recovering. Mogadishu is healing, and with the birth of the Farmajo government, we were all optimistic. I never hesitated in my elation when my family booked their flight to Xamar, in fact, I, too, booked a trip to join them there in December Inshallah.
'Mogadishu cant be worst than Galkacyo, and I am the daughter of that city full of tension and instability' I rationalized. 'If my family survived there four years, they sure can survive in Xamar which is the capital city with tighter security.' Perhaps I was right or, maybe I was wrong.
All I know is this.
My hoyoo's words calming me down, ironically, when I said 'hoyoo I was too scared, too terrified for you guys when I read about the explosion.'
She said:
قُل لَّن يُصِيبَنَا إِلَّا مَا كَتَبَ اللَّهُ لَنَا هُوَ مَوْلَانَا ۚ وَعَلَى اللَّهِ فَلْيَتَوَكَّلِ الْمُؤْمِنُونَ (9:51)
Say: “Nothing shall ever happen to us except what Allah has ordained for us. He is our Maula (Lord, Helper, and Protector).” And in Allah let the believers put their trust.
My family is among millions who live in Xamar. Every day the residents of Mogadishu decide to live, to conquer death, to define resiliency, to clean the rails of blood and build gardens of peace 'Beeraha Nabada.' People were out to support in every way they can, they cued long lines under the hot sun to donate blood, and children were pictured collecting body pieces from the explosion scene.
Every child, every woman, every senior, and every man in Mogadishu is fighting a battle. They are children of war, they saw death and know his smell. And yesterday they met him again.
Us in the diaspora are in this with you too. We share the pain with you, brothers and sisters, even when we aren't there physically. We are also holding the burden and getting burnt without the fire. We have our loved ones living with you. Please, don't ever think we don't feel your pain. It's even worse living afar because we cant lend a hand.
Yesterday, if I were living in Mogadishu, you would've seen me in the cues donating blood or sweeping blood from the floors. Yesterday, you would've seen me drive people around or take them home. Please know that we feel your pain too.
I am still planning to go to Xamar cadeey come December inshallah. My wish is to visit and stand upon every corner where martyrs cleansed our land with their blood. I will not fear death nor terrorists. And if I meet my end there, my blood will mix with hundreds of my sisters and brothers; my soul will ascend to Allah believing in him and believing that nothing will happen unless decreed by Him.
Mogadishu will rise again. Inshallah.
#PrayforMogadishu
#Mogadishu
#Mogadishuwillriseagain
#WeChooseNabadIyoNolol
Everyone from my immediate family was okay. Alhumdulilah.
I go on a hiking trip planned with friends. We discuss the news of Xamar Cadeey briefly. I go on autopilot mode; I think of all the what-ifs. The hiking starts and finishes while the picture of the explosion is alive in my head.
I go home and call Hoyoo (mother). Hoyoo says she was on a bus coming back from University, not very far from the place where the explosion took place. 'it was like an earthquake' she says. 'it shaken the whole city to the core, the city was sinking in black smoke.' 'two men who were riding the bus with me were very anxious and distressed; they started screaming at the bus driver to stop stopping at his usual stops in fear of a second explosion.' "Do not risk and waste our lives for 2000 shilling (almost $3.4) brother' they said, the bus driver didn't listen and continued following his normal route.'
Hoyoo mentioned another lady who got on the bus a few minutes later. She said 'when the explosion happened I was striding few inches away from the place where it happened, I had to check and touch my head couple of times to make sure everything was intact, I couldn't believe I wasn't bleeding."
As mother uttered these words, my horror grew more profound; my body felt number. My hoyoo was a few minutes away from the place of the deadly explosion that haunted few hundreds of our dear souls. Those dead humans had families that worried about them; a daughter like me may have checked on her mother, but her Hoyoo wasn't anywhere to be found. A sister checked on her brother, and she was directed to the hospital where he may or may not be alive. Hundreds are still buried under the rubles. Hundreds were blown up to pieces, and they will never have the honor to be buried as a whole. Hundreds are in life-threatening situation battling death in hospitals that are underfunded, unequipped, and with limited resources. Their blood is everywhere. Their bodies scattered into all directions. Many souls ascended to meet their creator Allah on Oct 14th, 2017.
What will those souls report to Allah, their creator, the one who placed them on earth? Will they talk about the harshness and cruelty of humans; fellow humans who were brainwashed to believe it was a noble cause to terrorize a whole city and explode a truck full of explosions?
Will they talk about how they fought the fear of death and decided to believe in our city and met their end in a restaurant while sipping cappuccino ? in a hotel while chilling with friends and batchmates? in a bus transit where they were headed for school or the market?
What will they say to Allah Sunhanhu wa ta'ala about the injustice that cut their lives short? About the wickedness of humans? About the grieve that will dissect the bereaved mother of four son's heart into million pieces every single minute? About the father who was flying to Mogadishu to attend his daughter's graduation instead attends her funeral?
When my family was deciding to move to Mogadishu, I encouraged my parents to make the move. Mogadishu is recovering. Mogadishu is healing, and with the birth of the Farmajo government, we were all optimistic. I never hesitated in my elation when my family booked their flight to Xamar, in fact, I, too, booked a trip to join them there in December Inshallah.
'Mogadishu cant be worst than Galkacyo, and I am the daughter of that city full of tension and instability' I rationalized. 'If my family survived there four years, they sure can survive in Xamar which is the capital city with tighter security.' Perhaps I was right or, maybe I was wrong.
All I know is this.
My hoyoo's words calming me down, ironically, when I said 'hoyoo I was too scared, too terrified for you guys when I read about the explosion.'
She said:
قُل لَّن يُصِيبَنَا إِلَّا مَا كَتَبَ اللَّهُ لَنَا هُوَ مَوْلَانَا ۚ وَعَلَى اللَّهِ فَلْيَتَوَكَّلِ الْمُؤْمِنُونَ (9:51)
Say: “Nothing shall ever happen to us except what Allah has ordained for us. He is our Maula (Lord, Helper, and Protector).” And in Allah let the believers put their trust.
My family is among millions who live in Xamar. Every day the residents of Mogadishu decide to live, to conquer death, to define resiliency, to clean the rails of blood and build gardens of peace 'Beeraha Nabada.' People were out to support in every way they can, they cued long lines under the hot sun to donate blood, and children were pictured collecting body pieces from the explosion scene.
Every child, every woman, every senior, and every man in Mogadishu is fighting a battle. They are children of war, they saw death and know his smell. And yesterday they met him again.
Us in the diaspora are in this with you too. We share the pain with you, brothers and sisters, even when we aren't there physically. We are also holding the burden and getting burnt without the fire. We have our loved ones living with you. Please, don't ever think we don't feel your pain. It's even worse living afar because we cant lend a hand.
Yesterday, if I were living in Mogadishu, you would've seen me in the cues donating blood or sweeping blood from the floors. Yesterday, you would've seen me drive people around or take them home. Please know that we feel your pain too.
I am still planning to go to Xamar cadeey come December inshallah. My wish is to visit and stand upon every corner where martyrs cleansed our land with their blood. I will not fear death nor terrorists. And if I meet my end there, my blood will mix with hundreds of my sisters and brothers; my soul will ascend to Allah believing in him and believing that nothing will happen unless decreed by Him.
Mogadishu will rise again. Inshallah.
#Mogadishu
#Mogadishuwillriseagain
#WeChooseNabadIyoNolol
