Instead of a poem today, I want to share my story, my journey to self-love, I love myself now and that’s not a secret.


I never used to think about how I looked, I was okay as best as I could be, till four years ago.

I developed a tiny boil kind of mark on my face, being the clumsy person I am, I thought it must have been from my Kitchen accidents, I have quite a  record in little accidents here and there, so I never gave it much thought. A week later, I had more than 25 boil-like things on my face, neck and back.

They hurt like burns and sure looked like burns too, I didn’t think much on the scars because one, I panicked and  a couple of Google Searches later I was sure I had skin cancer,(Never again playing Doctor on Google).

A Doctor’s trip later, I was diagnosed with an allergic reaction to a Cold Medicine I was using.

It was only after leaving the Doctor’s that I realised the depth of the reaction, I had boil like burns all over my face and arms, How  was I gonna go out?

My Mama let me rest for 2 days as I prepped myself into leaving the safety of my home, my own siblings were disgusted by the marks, my little brother afraid of me and moreover, I hated how I looked.

With the little Courage I had, I put on a face veil (Niqaab), and boarded the bus to school. Prepping myself I removed it upon  reaching School Grounds.

Many friends failed me that time, I felt the stares, saw the pointing fingers and heard the rumours.

Apparently, I was in a gang fight and got acid thrown on me (Cases had been heard of this occurring), I was cooking and spilt oil on myself, (My clumsiness was popular), I had bleached myself and possibly earned a spot on Blotched! (Face bleaching and backfires are popular everywhere).

Most thought it best to come up with their own theories. A close friend, was the first to approach me and ask me what had happened, after the rumours spinning everywhere, I was happy to tell her.

I lost many friends and got stares as I passed by, It was weirdly fascinating for people as much as it was painful for me. I got a teacher who “felt pitiful to everybody who saw me” I was a scene from a horror movie to her, and one who “hoped I did not come out home looking like that,”. To say I was feeling down is an understatement.

I struggled with pretending those words didn’t hurt,  I got many more, but from those I least expected.

Two weeks later, with the burns still up and raging, a trip to another Derma proved that I had a skin condition called Bullous Pemphigoid or a relative of it.

Due to the heavy dosages of steroids, I gained weight hard and fast, pairing the scars with extra weight.

Then crushing me were the fat comments, I couldn’t fit into my jeans, nor my dresses. I had chipmunk cheeks and gained more in a month than people gain in a year.

A ‘Counsellor’ called me out in class telling me “to go easy on the food, I was fat”

Reclusive and quiet I became from the Bubbly Cheery me that I once  was.

Family picked on my weight, Aunties gave me tips on how to lose fat fast, everyone compared me to my sister, and to my previous self.

I started starving myself, I stopped eating at home and skipped meals in school. I continued having meds on an empty tummy, just making sure I had enough not to feel faint. When forced to it I would chuck it down the first washroom I came across.

Instead of losing weight, I gained more and more.

I realised one day, that words will never affect me so long as I do not let them.

Slowly by slowly, I accepted myself, and my scars and my body.

I was scarred and broken, but I was also me.


I fell in love with myself as long as I knew, I would never let words hurt me and define me.

I let out most negativity in my life, stopped responding to fat jokes and cut out those dragging me down.

With the help of My Lord, I learned to love me, myself and I.

Dhubba (Large Beast) became a nick name and less of an insult.

I grew the courage to stop wearing heavy make up as a cover up when I left home.

Don’t just love my smile, love me,  my scars, my flaws.

Contrary to what people say, I believe my scars and my past define me, without them I don’t have a story to tell, I lose myself and who I am.

They remind me of what I have passed through and what I have gone through, I am stronger than what I struggled with, I fought and I won, scarred but I won.

They shaped me to who I am today, all the little imperfections that make me imperfectly perfect.

To all those quick to judge someone on their appearances, Bless your little hearts if you think your judgements reflect another’s story, your thinking defines you, you as a person and as a human, next time don’t voice your opinions when they are totally unasked for, Kindly do keep the negativity to yourself, you do not know me, nor do you know my story.

Yes, I currently am a fat happy person, with scars on me, but I am who I am and I love me.

Next time I want extra potatoes, I will have extra potatoes with extra cheese.

I myself define me.

I choose to either live in negativity or positive vibes.

I choose my own path

I alone  am responsible for my happiness.

I will not, never again, give somebody the power to bring me down.

For I love myself and I took a pledge.



Hold On Dear Heart

When I stumble and fall

When I stammer and stop

When I get tired of reaching out

When I lose more than just myself

And I lose some more

And I feel so helpless

And so tired

Exhausted from it all

Bow down and pray

Seek His guidance

Ask Him for patience

Have Patience, Dear Heart

Be Calm, Dear Heart

It only needs tearing down, before it becomes stronger

Verily after hardship there is ease

After trouble comes better times

Be patient, Dear Heart

When I’m about to give up

Remind me of the good days

Remind me of the happy times

Let me remember the beauty of life

The blessings I still have.

When I tear down, patch me up

When I fall, get me back up

When I frown, make me smile 

Remind me, Dear Heart.

And be patient.

In facing whatever hardships you are going through remember to be patient, bow down your head and pray, pray till it gets better and when it does, pray some more.

I don’t matter anymore

Like a stabbing pain

A heartless move

A painful encounter

A dead memory

When you don’t matter anymore

A blow direct to the heart

A never ending nightmare for the mind

A killing jab

When you don’t matter anymore

I’d have dealt with being ignored

Forgotten texts

Missed calls

But the look in your eyes, 

I realized

I don’t matter anymore.

I Shall Vote

On an empty stomach

Holding a dying baby, 

No doctors in sight

I shall Vote

As my brother falls in battle

And my cows to their deaths

And as my crops dry up

No worries, I shall vote.

As hunger and famine plague me 

And the rivers dry up

Water, but a passing memory

I shall Vote.

I shall vote for one,

Who cares about me and my children

Me and my needs

Me, the common Mwananchi

For I shall Vote.

For one honest and true

Just and wise

Humane and a true leader

I shall Vote hungry, thirsty and sick

But nevertheless, I shall vote.

To The Proud Parents

Mabrouk Alf Mabrouk

For the little bundle of joy

Like Farid, let him be unique

Precious like Fatma

Understanding like Fahmy

May Allah bless him and give him

A heart of gold like Abubakr (RA)

A sense of justice like Umar (RA)

Generosity like Uthman (RA)

Bravery like Ali (RA)

Courage like Khalid Bin Walid (RA)

Mercy like Abu Hureira (RA)

To the proud parents,

Like Fayaz, May Allah give him success in this world and the here after.

Flaws Of The Moon

They said she was a moon

Shining brightly in all their lives

Illuminating their paths 

And they were, but lost travelers on the way.

She was described beautifully

A bright face with a big smile

A kind heart and a cheery girl

Just like the moon, they said.

Twinkling eyes and an ageless beauty

Casting an ethereal glow

Aesthetically calming

Enchantingly radiant, a moon she was.

The moon was confused,

She wasn’t a star

Nor was the light  hers

So she veiled herself in clouds.

Too shy to face the world,

She quietly disappears

The tiny stars shine brighter anyways

She is still flawed.

If only she looked deeper

She only sees the light in others,

And she brings it out so it shines brighter,

She was a shimmering glorious being.

She hid herself farther

Insecure of the stars

Scared of her flaws

Nervous of it all.

Next time you meet her,

Remind her of this;

She is beautiful and strong

Compassionate and kind

Lovely and pure

An elegant flawed being she is

La Bella luna.

A Letter To My Beloved

This is to you my beloved

Mama and Baba

In whose arms there is nothing but solace

A comforting embrace

A love coccoon.
To Mama,

You bore me through hardships

Raised me with love

Hugged me with care

Loved me without despair.

I remember hiding behind you,

Or crying out Mama when I ran

When I was at fault.

Climbing up beds

Only to jump in your arms.

Waiting eargely by the door

Every single day till you came back.
To Baba,

You played with me

Taught me how to walk

How to run and talk

I still remember you entering from work

Sitting in a stool with a Barbie Kitchen Set

Sipping imaginary tea with a cookie.

Or pretending to cough

So, I your Daughter, I meant Doctor

Would check you up and inject you, even if it was just once.
These memories and much more,

Speedboats to Lamu

Picnics in a Lost Paradise

Swimming in Islands

Hiking in forests

Shopping in malls

Tours in Animal parks

Late night movies

Early morning cartoons

Rides in an amusement park

And the best of them all

Praying side by side

Holding your hands doing Tawwaff

Seeing the Holy House with you

And waking up everyday and seeing you.
To Yumma and AbyAby

It is said Children are the crowns of their parents,

Let us be the crowns on your head,

Adorned with pearls of laughter

Emeralds of blessings

Rubies of love

Diamonds of health

Secured with golden care.

To those who love unconditionally,

Mama and Baba,

We love you too.

May Allah incrase in your age and health and wealth,

May He open all doors of happiness and blessings 






When an ear aches

An ENT is consulted

When the eye pains

An optometrist is booked

When the heart suffers

A Cardio Doctor consulted

What of a searing pain

In our Humanity?


What of intense suffering

In our Harmony

Torture and agony?

Why don’t our eyes tear?

Why don’t our hearts bleed?

Why can’t we raise our voices?

Rise against injustice?

Stand up against violence?

Why don’t we feel anymore?

Why oh why?


Where is our humanity?

Or are we waiting in line?

Till agony reaches our doors?

Are we waiting for it to be

Our children being slaughtered?

Our girls being raped?

Our houses being bombed?

Our country being bombed?


Our hospitals being destroyed?

Our babies dying before seeing the world?

Why oh why?

If Syria, Palestine, Burma

Iraq,  Afghanistan, Libya

Somalia, Nigeria, Yemen

Does not move you

Or tug at your heart

If you think the damage and deaths

Are nothing but Collateral damage



No one deserves death,  rape, destruction, pain or suffering. To the person out there saying the civilians deserve to die for the “better good and for the long-term future”,

Who will be left in the “FUTURE” if all civilians are dying now.

What country will be left to rule?

What people to become citizens.








For some,

Home is a sanctuary

A peaceful abode

A lovely place

Kindly, hear me out.

Let me tell you all

Of the prison I call home.

What shall I start with?

The violence?

The murder?

The savagery?


The fact that I’d prefer death to life?

Bombs dropping by the hour?

Playgrounds looking like grave yards

Only with the dead unburied

Shocking statistics

No worries, half are still unaccounted for.

Neighbors trapped in rubble

Hospitals barely standing

Dead streets everywhere

With dead closed ones all around

Everyone lives in fear

Of the horrors yet to be seen.


Shall I tell you more?

Of the hell I call home?

Where I’ve witnessed death and despair

Where I’ve seen cruelty and brutality?

Let me say it now

For I dread tomorrow

I fear I may not be able to say it again

Maybe I shall be a statistic tomorrow

Of the lost never to be found

Or the dead and unaccounted

This is my fate

One I grew to hate

Shall I describe it more?

I do have siblings

Ones I’ve not seen for months

Interrogative questioning, I heard

Before they went missing

I used to have a father,

One killed before my very eyes

A Mama too,

Who took her own life.

She preferred death over rape, you see.

I know where I live.

On Planet Earth, a fact this is

Yet, fellow Earth occupiers never feel

The terrors of what I call home

The lingering smell of death that hangs on my door

The streaks of blood that paints my streets

Fellow humans

This is the prison I call home.



To all those humane,

I humbly beg

Regardless of the religion you profess

Kindly pray for #Aleppo.





















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