There are some sorrows
that are quickly forgotten. Some sorrows have high life expectancy than others.
Some go away but return without warning. Some sorrows leave us but we don’t
leave them, we don’t let go and in fact recall them at will. Some sorrows have
permanent residency. Some sorrows die only with death.
Human beings have to cope
with life’s vicissitudes. There will always be joy, there will always be
sorrow; praise and blame; fame and notoriety; profit and loss. We are not very good with the positives and
pretty bad with the negatives too. We just get carried away. We embrace them so hard that they end up
possessing us. Relief, sadly, is not for
purchase. It is easy to theorize about
treating these unsettling movements with equanimity; hard to practice.
We all lose something
sometime. Fame declines. Praise bleeds
into blame. Profit margins collapse and losses are incurred. Joy gives way to sorrow. Omar Cabezas, the Nicaraguan revolutionary,
describes in his account of the Sandinistas’ struggle against the dictatorship
of Anastasio Somoza Debayle (another tyrannical darling of the United States of
America) how he took with him all kinds of memorabilia when he took off to the
mountains (see ‘Fire from the Mountain’).
Training is tough. Combat tougher.
Revolutions are not tea parties, as Mao said. One by one, those mementoes of a different
time got lost, he wrote. There was
disappointment and grief, but a war does not pause for these things. Finally, one is left with nothing by way of
token except that which resides in memory.
Certain things are replaceable, certain things not. A child that dies,
for instance.
Death is common to all,
grief and grieving is personal. We all
lose loved ones. Some who are so close
that they’ve made us who we are, some who just touched and therefore whose
passing is easier to deal with. There are some who give meaning to our
lives. Like children.
Some years ago, an infant
died. Was not the first and will not be the last. That is no consolation to
parent. We cannot fathom the grief. We also know that certain losses cause
sorrows that cannot have any other end but death. An infant died and a maid was accused of
having caused the death. The truth of
the allegation, the evidence and the fairness of trail etc., have been
explored; we need not regurgitate. All
that matters now is that a mother lost her child and another mother could lose
hers.
Let’s talk of the mother
of the infant who is no more. She is a
Muslim living in a country governed by Islamic laws.
The relevant codes of conduct prescribed and the relevant punishment
decreed for particular transgressions are all that matter for all practical
purposes. I am not theologian and cannot
claim familiarity of any kind with the Quran.
I’ve heard that when a person is found guilty of murder, pardoning is
the preserve of the near and dear of the victim. RizanaNafeek’s life now hangs on
the word of the infant’s mother. Or her silence, as the case may be. I don’t know if there is agreement in the
Islamic world on this particular interpretation but that’s irrelevant. What
matters is that as things stand, only a pardon by the infant’s mother
accompanied perhaps by a demand for blood money can save Rizana.
I reflected on this
particular element of Islamic law. Why let a victim’s nearest kin decree nature
of punishment, when it cannot be established that the sentencing individual has
the necessary intellectual and professional training one would assume is
necessary to measure relevant dimensions of crime and punishment? Perhaps, I thought, it was because certain
losses cannot be recovered and certain sorrows only perish with death. The nearest and dearest have to deal with all
this and not the journalist who writes the story, the lawyers defending the
accused, the judge who hears the case or the human rights activist who takes
umbrage at capital punishment.
A death for a death,
perhaps gives ‘closure’ as they say in the West. It is perhaps unguent that will deaden the
pain even if it doesn’t cure the wound completely. There is a need for succor and all things
considered, including cultural preferences and traditions, I cannot say there
is no justice in such a course of action.
Death for death is only
one option, though. There is provision for forgiveness. Forgiving is a ‘letting go’ as well. Perhaps this option was given considering the
fact that one method does not necessarily work for all. I am not going to pass judgment on which of
the two is superior because I do not know the infant’s mother.
My cultural preferences
urge forgiveness. The lady in question can exercise her rights in this
matter. If she speaks the word ‘death’,
that is it. Rizana dies. Her mother and
father lose their child. The lady’s
grief, hopefully (for her sake), gets subdued to a degree which permits her to
get on with her life. I will not judge
her.
All I know is that
contentment can be obtained in many ways.
We can take and taking can give peace. We can give too, and this can quell
agitation to the extent that is possible.
Rizana, alive, will not be a threat to any child, this is certain. Mrs. NaifJiziyanKhalaf Al Quthaibi has a ton
of grief upon her chest. The execution
of the girl she believes killed her child might lift enough of it off so she
can breathe again. Forgiving her would
not, I believe, lift of a lesser weight.
Naif al-Quthaibi, a
little angel, is no more. Her mother
will never see her angel again. Rizana,
dead or alive, will not bring this child back to life.
Whatever works for you,
Mrs. Quthaibi. I am not going to
judge. Allah, whom you believe in, is
merciful, I’ve heard my Islamic friends say.
I am not of the Islamic faith, but from now until a decision is made on
the life of Rizana, I am going to murmur a set of words and reflect upon them: Bismillah-ar-rahmanar-raheem.
I am not sure if this amounts to blasphemy, since I am not of that faith, and
beg forgiveness if I offend the faith or its followers. I just want to meditate on mercy and I want
to think of two children, Naif al-Quthaibi and Rizana, whose sojourn on this
earth, as per the faith of their families, was sanctioned by Allah, the most
beneficial, the most merciful.
This article was first published in the Daily Mirror (July 2, 2011)
Malinda Seneviratne is a freelance writer. Email: malindasenevi@gmail.com. Twitter: malindasene
