Archive | March, 2015

‘Calling all Humans’ – an inspiring read.

22 Mar

I want to share this beautiful poem written by an inspiring young lady; Tanisha Ahmed. She first wrote to me when she was 13; now at 15 she has written this and sharing it on Monday 23rd March in New York for a poetry contest.
I feel very proud of this young lady, who she is and who she is becoming every day. She sent me this to share with her nerves about reading it aloud, she has a vision that is just heart-warming; full of love and care for humanity and a strong passion from when she first wrote to me to care for humanity and do something for our world.

Please read and share your thoughts, I would love for Tanisha to be able to see the support and love there is across the world.

I have no question this girl is going to go very far in life and make a big difference to our world. Through every email she shares with me I see it more and more and can only smile greatly with love that I have been lucky to know her. She is full of wisdom beyond her years from the first day she reach out to me and it continues to grow wonderfully.

I cannot upload it here in the same format as she has it, but please do read it below, it is beautiful to see the young in our world, the future with such love and passion to have these feelings to write something as this.

My love to you always Tanisha; where ever I am you are thought about often and inspire me daily. x

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Calling All Humans

O my beloved sisters and brothers whom walk the soil of this Earth with Me. Yes! It’s true we are different in our color, in our race and in our Creed.

But what does all that matter when every one of us bleed the same. Do We not all bleed red? Or do we?

So listen close to my words.

I am Calling All humans. For I have an urgent message to deliver. On Behalf of the oppressed and impoverished and voiceless people of the Earth.

Listen.

For wounded souls speak.

Say.

Do you wish of a world with only hate and injustice?

A world with no love nor any tears for anyone’s bloodshed.

A world in which the wrong is seen as the right and the truth is known As the lie and the good are looked at as the bad.

Do you wish of a world where people blame God for the doing of evil Despite the fact he has given us everything to live equal?

A world where people remain silent against the oppression of people.

But I’m sure you wish of such a world because isn’t this the place you Call home?

I mean just how can you want to keep enjoying your time, while Knowing there are children in this world bleeding and even when you Waste your money on useless things, when you could have given to Someone in need.

Wake up O humans for humanity is calling to you in need!

Just look at Palestine where prayers are used as weapons against those Thieves who hid behind their guns and tanks shooting them at the Palestinians as if it’s “no big deal.”

Wake up O humans for humanity is calling to you in need!

Masjid Al-Aqsa awaits for you to set it free!

And surley Wallahi: By God we will set it free.For freedom is the only Language we warriors of God know how to speak.

Speak! Speak louder and raise your words with rhymes of justice and Peace that even the most toughest and most stubborn of mountains Will submit and salute you before your knees.

For your word is deep like the wounds of a child. The temporary Wounds on their skin but the everlasting wound on their heart as they Waited for your help.

O you whom see’s with your heart instead of your eyes. Let’s call upon Our lord as one nation our lord whom gives and gives whom Generously. O lord Al-Karim give us Noor: light in our hearts to make us Aware and O lord send us Arc Angel Azrael just too bare witness of our Prayers. For we dream to be amongst those you love.

O my dear sisters and brothers that I call upon in sincere need!

The screams are screaming for you so take heed!

Your triumph is there, turn no more blind eyes to the impoverished and Oppressed but beware for the strongest weapons in the entire universe For amour and protection is not that of blood and of steel but rather a Voice for the voiceless and a Mother’s prayer.

For there is no barrier between them and God.

فَقِيرٌ خَيْرٍ مِنْ إِلَيَّ أَنزَلْتَ لِمَا إِنِّي رَبِّ فَقَالَ

Fa qaa la Rabbi inne lima anzalta ilayaa min khayrin faqeer (24) Al-Qasas

“My lord indeed I am for whatever good you would send down to me in need.”

And indeed God will give a mighty victory to those who stand for justice!

Ameen.

By: Tanisha Ahmed

4 years later in Syria.

16 Mar

As I spend another anniversary in the country I decided this year to spend it with those who matter the most. The civilians. The displaced families internally.

Amidst the ruin of Syria I sit with Abo Omar & his wife Marwa while their 2 boys rummage around the room they have taken shelter in. They lost their home and eldest son Hamoud nearly 2 years ago when a government mortar hit their civilian populated area. Marwa was badly injured and has since recovered. This is the 5th building they have had to move to within Syria in the past 2 years, a sad trend that many can relate to within the country.

I first met Abo Omar over 3 years ago. Laughter was plentiful, his children chanted & danced among the crowds pulling me in to join them in dance with the joyous excitement of what they saw as a festival atmosphere. Vibrancy gleamed within the crowds, drums echoed through the streets with song that was haunting, the re-established flag to represent a Free Syria weaved within the people with a unity that many saw as unbreakable.

‘I was proud to be Syrian before, but not today. Look at what we have done to our country.’ As Abo Omar titters he proceeds to opening his Facebook on the cracked screen of his aged mobile. ‘Look, we even fight over what day the revolution began.’ he shows me the talks many have been indulging online about the date and origins of the revolution.

Abo Omar spent close to a year with the then Free Syrian Army, his commander and once friend from 10 years prior was whom he pledged his allegiance. They fought fierce battles to free Homs together, they wept together over their lost brothers in battle, and celebrated together over few minor victories they would achieve back then with what little weaponry they had.

‘I could not agree with him on many decisions, the first was when he wanted us to torture and kill prisoners we had from the army. I did not join the Free Syrian Army for this. I joined to protect my children, my country.’ Abo Omar had then decided that this would not be the continued path for him.

Abo Omar started working with others to help bring in medical supplies, food and other items urgently needed in the besieged city of Homs through dangerous smuggling routes across from Lebanon that was extremely limiting to what they could bring.

His then commander has gone on to become a Jabhat Al Nusra leader, now fronting battles for greater land and power.

The family depend on what little handouts they receive through locals working to help with food and clothing. They live on minimal water they share with 5 other families in the large home that was long abandoned with its true owners unknown. Families have each taken a room and made it their home as they wait; they do not even know what they are waiting for.

Marwa, Abo Omar’s wife, once a school teacher now spends her time trying to interest her children in education to occupy their minds. The boys do not go outside and do not attend the local mosque or schools that have been arranged by some which have been known to entice recruitment &a rather extremist teaching of Islam.
‘It is not safe for our children to go outside. They like to take boys their age and teach them very bad things. God willing something will happen soon so we can live in peace again.’ Marwa continues to tidy their small room as we talk to form a sense of normality in the discomfort of her obvious despair.

They do not hold passports, one of the biggest problems facing the people of Syria making it extremely difficult for them to travel, leaving them little opportunity. Abo Omar paid $3500 to obtain passports selling what little belongings they had after losing their eldest along with their home; part of that money was their wedding rings they sold; however like many from Syria they never saw these passports nor the people who they arranged the deal with.

‘What can we do? Beg on the streets of Turkey or Lebanon? What can we do? If I had the money I would even try to send my wife and children on the boat to Greece.’ Abo Omar pauses to sip his coffee to mask his shaky voice from the depth of emotion.
‘I had a small shop. Children would come after school and buy sweets. I was able to feed my own family, now look at us.’

4 years later and a country left predominantly in rubble. Millions of civilians are left with little to no voice; a voice veiled by the armed struggle in the country.

While this story is a simple one on some levels within the complexities of this war; it is however the largest story of the country, it is the story that vast numbers echo.

The voice of millions of civilians who are left displaced and with the branding of refugee is the voice that is off the true Syria and I give my life on it that this voice is a beautiful one of care, a kindness that cannot be found across the globe with ease, and it is a voice that deserves our human affection across the world.