"What are you playing at?"
This phrase could easily sum up how I
felt when I read the sentence "What I should have done". I mean, come
on! How is it not a trap? If this question, I might say, is a stormtrooper, it
is the worst trooper of them all because it just can't miss hitting the right
sections of my memories.
First of all, we need to make things
clear; after six and a half years, give or take a month or two of taking
medicine, living, learning and growing up in Egypt I am confident enough to say
that I am satisfied enough with what have become of me. In a way, I am more
confident with myself, I have just finished medical school (which is a huge
deal itself), and I have made wonderful friends whom I will haunt to death if
they skip jenazah prayer
for me when I die.
Nevertheless I do have a few regrets
here and there like everyone out there, and somehow if you string them up
together I do have that feeling of a huge disgusting pile of shit dumped on me,
as I am sleeping in my bed, early in the morning, after a very, very tiring
day. You know, the sort of things that can piss you off like nothing else.
You see, I have a lot of things I
wished I'd done these past years and now I can't decide from where to start.
One of my favourite hadith is the one
that says 'He who knows himself knows God." Personally I have always
struggled with myself, I was never at a point where I am comfortable with who I
am and I have always worried how other people see me. The thing is, I am a
dude; a huge one back in Malaysia in fact. My lack of confidence bothered me so
much that I've became more insecure with me acknowledging my insecurities. That
is what we called a vicious cycle in the medical world. So I looked into that,
finding ways to improve myself from all the angles I could find, and by doing
so I overlooked some other parts of me that needed to be developed.
The general assumption of Malaysians is
that an Egypt-graduate, whether he or she is taking either medicine, sharia or
ulum al-Quran, should become an ustaz that can lead prayers, tahlils, give
khutbah and should know what is halal and what is not. We should be proficient
in Arabic in a way that we shouldn't need a tafseer to read the Quran.
Obviously the general population had it all wrong. Even a PhD holder in sharia
can't just interpret the Quran willy nilly. Anyway, all misconceptions aside,
we are expected to know more that those who take medicine in the UK, for
example, and this is the least that we can achieve to edge us more than
graduates from other countries.
We should have a strong grasp on the
Arabic language. Stronger than being able to ask the 'ammu in the store how
much is something without knowing that that thing is called in arabic. "'Ammu,
da bikam?" is just not enough, man. Neither does "mumkin
takhfeed shuwaiya". So yes, the fact that my Arabic is so abhorrent
does leave a sizable mark inside me. My stomach churned every time I was
reminded with the fact that I can't speak Arabic fluently, not even the
Egyptian dialect. So maybe, if I could turn back time, I would push myself to
speak Arabic more, because hey, even though I don't look it but I do wish I
could someday memorize and understand the forty hadiths and the Quran.
Back when I was just in my first year,
I heard stories of my seniors who went to the local villages, slept with the
locals, eating their food and learning their culture. I remembered back then
saying to myself, I will do that someday. Days went by and today I am less than
one month shy from going back to Malaysia for good. I wish I could learn how to
make a proper plate ofkoshary. I wish I ask that 'ammu what kofta is
made of. I wish I stopped that herder who brings his goats to eat at the
garbage sites around town and offered him a cup of tea. Living with other
thousand of Malaysians have made us excluded from the world we are living in,
we are a community who do not wish to assimilate with the locals. If you look
at it properly, you should understand that this is rude and insulting to the
locals, as if we are better than them (which we are not!). So if I could go
back in time, I'd ask myself to go learn how to make a perfect plate of sweet,
spicy koshary lahma or
a plate of togen.
Living in a small town in a foreign
land doing one of the most tedious fields in the modern world can make you feel
empty inside. Naturally, everyone needs something to keep them sane through the
year. While some sing or play instruments, others read and expose themselves in
the virtual world by writing or blogging on a semi-personal level. Others spend
their time in the stadium drenching in sweat and joint pains, which they
perceived as fun for some reason beyond my understanding. As for myself, I find
joy in reading and writing but somehow they eluded me. I did not spend my time
doing either of those, instead I remembered pointless nights when I did nothing
for a period longer than I care to admit. I was a lazy arse, hell I still am! I
also have always admired the guitar and the piano, but I did not pursue my
interest, and just recently I found a sport that I genuinely can play well
enough. Due to the fact that I have always been bad at sports, finding one that
suits me is a very big deal.
I wished I have done more with my time.
I wished I'd write more, learn more, try new things earlier. The years I've
spent here in Egypt were my golden years, where I could learn and experience as
much as I could without having to think about responsibilities other than
studying. I've realised that once I finish medical school, real life begins. I
have to think about paying bills, about where and how to settle down, about my
family and most importantly, my career as a doctor which has been my biggest
aim in life since I started doing medicine.
Ah, all these negativities are getting
to me. In spite of all the things I wished I had done, like I said earlier, I
am glad I turned out to be this man I am today. I may not be perfect, but as a
believer I understand that where I am today is where Allah wants me. Do I wish
I turn out better? Hell yeah! But I am content with what I am and there's
nothing I can do besides looking forward and work with what I have.
Here's to another fifty years of
achieving great things in life!
