Late Night Thoughts
It's midnight, maybe past midnight. I don’t know. I can’t tell the exact hour it is. Perhaps it’s just before dawn when the imam calls the faithful Muslims for prayer and success. I have been awake all night, doing nothing in particular. I was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark, and lost in my thoughts. I overthought, but I can’t recall exactly what it was. Was it the women on the side of the street where so many have tragically lost their lives? Or was it the man who treated the kind waitress with such cruelty? Or the politician whom I encountered earlier today? Could it be my friends who are fighting so hard to break the same cycle? Or innocent lives lost and suffering endured in Gaza and Lebanon? What the hell exactly am I thinking about? I don’t know! Why do my thoughts drift so far from my own life? Why didn't I focus on my laziness? Why didn’t I think about how often I lie to myself? Am I allowed to think beyond the boundaries of my life? Do I have a right to these thoughts? I believe that thinking about others reflects our humanity. Have you read or listened to the Palestinian poet Mohamud Darwish’s poem called “Think of Others”? I remember whenever my teacher wanted to give us advice, he used to say, “A wise person learns a lesson from what happened to others.” Am I considered a wise man? Maybe I still don’t know if I am a fool or wise!
I always do these sorts of things whenever I go to bed. I don’t know why the small thoughts led me to a sea of sorrow and loneliness. How do I explain myself?! I hate describing myself or any other kind of information about me. A 26-year-old man trying to live. Yes, that’s the best definition of me. I’m trying to feel the sand and the sun of my hometown again. I’m trying to wake up early and pray to the Lord to give me a good sign every morning. I want to get back my innocent soul in this cruel world. I’m trying to sleep in peace and escape the loneliness chasing me. I’m trying not to do anything stupid that costs my life. I’m trying to stop lying to myself and face the reality—the harsh reality of this city and country.
The thoughts in my head are like the flight schedule board; when I fix or try to deny something, the other thoughts will land in my head. Why did he treat her so terribly? A young woman who’s striving to feed her children and her old mother she had in the home. You’re an idiot and a worthless damsel. You have no idea how to serve people who have status. Get out of my face. What is this meat shawarma I didn’t even order? Who sent you? Is this what you call professional?” He yelled in front of other people as he put on the table the food in his mouth. “I’ve brought to you what you’ve ordered, sir!” she replied.
“I’ve ordered chicken shawarma, and you give me what? A f*cking meet in it. I don’t eat this. I hate beef. Go away…” I stared at her eyes wetting while she was trying to stay normal. Some women can tolerate a lot, but stupidity is not one of them. Still, we can handle everything, except losing our loved ones. She broke down in tears in the restaurant, but no one saw her except those who could see directly her face. She wiped away the tears, and the barista tried to keep things normal as he came to the customer. “Excuse us, sir, we will change the order; wait us a minute. Maybe it’s an error. Don’t behave like this unethical; act like you’re a mature and responsible adult.” He glanced at her, “Hani, Go and change his order.” She went to the chef and screamed, “He denied the moment he ate meat, and he was the one who ordered beef shawarma. Go to hell, idiot.”
I tried everything to stop these thoughts running through my head. To walk miles in this risky city to come back home tired and sleep well. Even I tried to work the night shift like Robert De Nero in Taxi Driver (1976). To play gentle piano, or even rain videos, or even Quranic verses just to disturb the voices in my head. Voice in my head. Oh! God knows how I love that song. K’naan wrote perfectly, and I felt every verse. “Voices in my head, am I alive or am I dead? Alone I cry!” He tried to describe us. He continued…”I don’t make a living, but I still persist. I could sell out, but I still resist.” I love it. K’naan never fails to express Somalis, especially youth. He’s a true and extraordinary poet. I was not thinking of his song until I wrote 'voices in my head.’ That’s how my thoughts can lead me to that damn ocean I’m trying to escape. When I think of K’naan, I’m reminded of the magic of his words. He manages to express things most of us can’t even put into words, and there’s a sharpness to his lyrics that makes them so powerful and deeply motivational.
“It is better to light a candle than to curse the dark!” —K’naan; In the Beginning.
Tonight, when I was heading home, I saw a woman sitting on the roadside. “Mama, can you give me something?” She was sitting under the memorial banner where many loved ones died, and their names were written there as martyrs. Innocent people like her and me, and the thousands who are dying and burning in Rafah, Khan Younis, or Lebanon. I passed without help. I couldn’t afford a cent to give her. I only had a dollar to use the next morning, even though I didn’t know what to do. Maybe bread or something else. I don’t know what to do with that damn dollar. Do I send my friends who are trying to break the cycle when they call me in the middle of the night—the cycle of working the same shifts as their fathers and living the same lifestyle as them? Those who work under this cruel capitalism have nothing but sharp minds that can kill them. No, I must use tomorrow as transport to that politician I work with. The last time I saw him before today was the electoral campaign four years ago! When he got the position in the parliament, he refused the whole community, as he was never part of them, and ignored when the elders called him! Somali politicians mostly are the same. They take advantage of the people and work against them rather than for them. Whenever intellectuals speak out and try to address the issue, they face pressure from populist politicians who manipulate public opinion. The public can either oppose you or support you based on how that politician labels you—whether it’s tribalism, being a spy from another country, lacking patriotism, or any other accusations. He does all of these because you spoke the truth about the situation. The public knows that he did nothing, but being his clan or another clan is one of the big issues he can oppose or support that politician.
After that, I’m trying to live no matter how hard this life is. If it doesn’t happen, I will try to stay as safe as possible, avoiding the undeniable truth, which is “you can die any moment, no matter how healthy you are.” I’ll try to survive. Now, I've got to attempt to sleep, and I wish the luck that I don’t know how it works. Before that, I’ll let myself breathe and try again tomorrow—not just to survive, but maybe to find a reason to continue trying and living. And I think what I’m dealing with is insomnia; it’s what Fight Club (1999) says: “When you have insomnia, you’re never really asleep, and you’re never really awake. With insomnia, nothing’s real. Everything is far away. Everything is a copy of a copy of a copy.” I don’t know.
