Travelling Truths Of A Tired Mind

Photo by Alyssa Sieb on Nappy

We often think our own truths and experiences are not worthy of being shared. 
Yet, it is our truths and experiences that matter the most.

Phnom Penh, Cambodia 2018

From a young age, I was blessed to travel significantly an in turn experience many things as a child. When I was five years old, my parents wanted to visit our home country Somalia. Being born and raised in Toronto, this was my first time hearing about this country “Somalia.” My parents wanted my siblings and I to learn our language and heritage. They desired for us to be in tune with our  Somali identity as much as our Canadian one.  Yet, as children it did not make sense for us to leave our perfectly comfortable home for an unstable one like the television showed. Somalia was still recovering from the civil war.

Nevertheless, we still went.

We stayed in Somalia for almost four years. We spent that time travelling to different cities and visiting family and distant relatives. We went to the villages and learned how to herd animals. We became experts in bargaining in local markets in our native tongue. The sandy rocky roads became as familiar as the smooth asphalt. This strange land eventually became home. 

In the historical ages of Somalia, the nomadic way of life was very prevalent. Many people would wander to far lands in search of resources, opportunities, and knowledge. I interpret this ancestral knowledge as an explanation of why I travel. What would eventually propel me to visit once again as an adult. 

At this point, It had been fifteen years. 

However, I still remembered. My soul desired a momentary change and a peaceful rest. I wanted to explore a part of my identity that I had yet to explore without hesitation. I decided to embark on a  journey that would re-acquaint me with a part of myself that I had not seen in a while. 

The world announced itself to me

The impossible seemed conceivable to me

What I was afraid to grasp

Fell gently into my hands

What I once perceived

Through a cracked window

Was now completely clear

A curiosity filled vision

International Bound

I did not face any challenges or hardships in being a visible Muslim woman. I was in a place where the majority looked like me. It is important to note that my identity plays a significant role in how I move through certain spaces. I am a black woman who outwardly adheres to a particular faith system. With these intersectional identities, I am hyper-aware of how my identity is perceived. It’s always an unpredictable ballgame to which of my identities will come under scrutiny.   

If you are black

You are a thug

If you are a women

You are inferior

If you are Muslim

You are a Terrorist

If you are Somali

You are a Pirate

A pleasant arrival. 

I couldn’t help but think of this as a peculiar occurrence. I am in a faraway place and this is the most I have been treated like a normal traveller. The daily microaggressions and racist antics became even normalized to myself. 

At this point in my life I have gotten really good at interpreting prolonged stares for the admiration of my carefully chosen deep yellow hijab. I too liked how it complimented my complex shade of melanin.  

I use my own mental affirmations to combat ignorance. For most of the time, it serves as a source of comfort and amusement. Yet, there are times where it becomes tedious.

Societal pressures never cease to amaze me. Like clockwork, always ready to strike at your moments of weakness. 

The Marketplace

After a few days of rest, I was giddy with excitement to meet the locals. I set out on foot and wandered until I entered a place that was bustling with movement and noise. 

The Marketplace. Or Suuq,as it is known in my language.

What felt like hundreds of feet were moving in rapid routine movements filled the marketplace. Tens of huts that varied in size filled every space. Rows of huts filled with fresh produce, clothing, meat and the list went on. Everything you could possibly need and want was there. 

As I walked deeper and deeper what I thought seemed vast and chaotic from the outside became intricate and sophisticated on the inside. Laughter filled the long stretch of the alleyway. As I continued to and exit the alley, I was able to locate the source of the sound. A small group were nestled under a tree enveloped by a massive shade.  Six women were sitting in the middle of the busiest area drinking tea and sweets. Laughter that can be heard from alleyways away. Absolutely no care for the world beyond their cool shade. 

I was captivated by these women. Knowing nothing of who they were or what their stories were, I was simply captivated.  

At The End It's Just People

When people display ignorance towards me, all I am affected by is how shameful it is that they rob themselves of growth. The breed of willful ignorance never bought any happiness.

The breed of ignorance

Prevents the discoveries of life

Serving as a blockade

In forming connections

The breed of arrogance

Limits the education of oneself 

A mere difference

Denouncing it as inferior and wrong 

The breed of egotism

Rejects perspective

Unfamiliarity

A cause to approach with disdain

Ignorance prevents us from gaining distinctive and educative experiences. It prevents us from connecting and empathising with humanity. It prevents us from moving like nomads inside all of us. To explore the wonders of the world. In learning new ways and correcting old ones. So we can appreciate dissimilarities.

Once wasn’t enough

I wanted to experience it again

The sense of togetherness

The sense of community

The sense of connectedness 

Standing at the separating line

I don’t want to function

Behind lines drawn for me

I don’t want to abide by

Societies restrictions placed on me

I  want to erase the definite line

And explore the blurred ones

So I can make it my own

So I can make it whole

I want to be the painter
Of my canvass

I want to be the author
Of my story

The Whys
Behind Travelling Truths Of A Tired Mind

Young
Black
Muslim
Women

Did I want the world to know
That I will break any chains

That they try to restrict me with

Or is it simply an accommodation of all of these

Maybe this is to serve as an inspiration to people who want to pursue something even when it feels like the odds are stacked against them. Maybe this is for people to get a glimpse of what it is like to be a Black Muslim women. Maybe this is to serve as a personal account and appreciation for the complexities of my experience. 

We often think our own truths and experiences are not worthy of being shared. Yet, it is our truths and experiences that matter the most. It's what bridges understanding and forms connection. Travelling truths of a tired mind is based on the self-discovering thoughts and insights I’ve gained from travelling back and forth to my home country.