The word “crass” per WordWeb is: (of persons) so unrefined as to be lacking in discrimination and sensibility, this is how best I can describe the Congolese police that mowed down my beard arbitrarily.
The moments after their action admittedly threw me off balance but going a heavy dose of religion stabilized me and brought me relief. As Muslims we believe the prayer of an oppressed person is answered by Allah, so I prayed against the renegade gang.
I had just finished reading a book "The Challenge of Living Islam in Difficult Times" authored by Sheikh Ishaak Nuamah. It emphasized more on the general global context of Islam being under a coordinated attack - at the level of its origins, belief systems and its practical aspects.
But for me, because I kept my beard purely for religious purposes aside the wider human right reason, I saw the police action as a very local level extension of how ordinary people could trigger a challenge for others because of the value system they ascribed to.
So on the about 300 meters walk back to the bus station, I prayed among others that Allah “takes charge” of the case because I was powerlessly powerless under the circumstances.
I beseeched that all five men get a full recompense for the humiliation and mockery that they had put me through. I asked God that whatever punishment was due them started that evening but appealed that may it be a very personal lifelong payback that will not affect their families.
I swore to never forgive them at which point tears that had welled in my eyes began the journey down my cheeks.
Back at the bus station I sat on a bench, all this while unable to touch my chin, it felt revolting having to assess the damage they had done, I also kept away from a mirror because I did not want to see what was left of the beard.
Before I get to why I would forgive unconditionally and pray for them, let’s go 24 hours prior to the incident. I had boarded a taxi going to my hotel and the driver broke into unprovoked laughter so I asked why.
He said with the two of us spotting beards, it was going to be a big headache if by any chance we encountered police. So I joined the laughter and retorted about how stupid it was for someone’s beard to be the headache of especially a law enforcement official, how could I have known I was in for a treat?
So as I sat on the bench and with different scenarios playing in my head, I recounted four years in Congo, the highs and lows, the shocks and lucks, the blessings and the lessons. Their action was a “shock” in the general scheme of events.
I was not ready to allow it pass as a “low” not even a “lesson,” there was no law – local or international that barred keeping of beards like mine. Then as I ached over having to touch and see my beard at a point, I remembered a scene from the film “Three Idiots.”
Where Prof. Virus had his mustache shaved after his employment bet on Raju failed. Specifically the scene where he used a mirror to conceal his face from his daughter. I got me laughing at my own plight.
Recalling his words “everything is fair in life and in war,” tickled me even further. Having classed the shaving as a “shock” I set out to undo my earlier invocations on the renegade officers.
I prayed that Allah makes my experience the final episode of their arbitrary use of power, that via some experience they come to appreciate the need to stick to their jobs and sit out such actions. I wished them well and it surprised me, but I got relief by so doing.
That evening through to the next morning, I continued having flashes of their action. The hurt knocked and questioned why forgive at all. I learned that saying you’d forgiven people that hurt you was only a first step. But I soldiered on with closure and can say I achieved it.
The entire episode is one that I laugh over for all its worth. About the mocking sellers, I told them to not mock me but to cry that they live under an oppressive errant police. I said one day they would turn on their hair when there are no more beards to be mowed.
The episode also gave me time to reflect on how long I have been having my beard. Since leaving secondary school, that will be after 2003. Hundreds of haircuts later, the closest a scissors has come to it is slight trimming.
I have had people compliment and attempt to desecrate it but because I don’t keep it for “haters / mockers” I hardly take note of their comments. As for the jovial comments about it, I have responded that World War III will break out it I removed it.
I doubt if the world noticed how in under five minutes, five Congolese police did me the honours of shaving it off. As they say, lest you travel out of where you are, you’d never believe the things that go on elsewhere.
The trip that got me this treat was for the records the best 10 days of my four years stay in Congo. One day when I finally quit Congo, damn I will have a lot to remember and to laugh over for all it is worth.
11th Rajab, 1441 = 6th March, 2020
The moments after their action admittedly threw me off balance but going a heavy dose of religion stabilized me and brought me relief. As Muslims we believe the prayer of an oppressed person is answered by Allah, so I prayed against the renegade gang.
I had just finished reading a book "The Challenge of Living Islam in Difficult Times" authored by Sheikh Ishaak Nuamah. It emphasized more on the general global context of Islam being under a coordinated attack - at the level of its origins, belief systems and its practical aspects.
But for me, because I kept my beard purely for religious purposes aside the wider human right reason, I saw the police action as a very local level extension of how ordinary people could trigger a challenge for others because of the value system they ascribed to.
So on the about 300 meters walk back to the bus station, I prayed among others that Allah “takes charge” of the case because I was powerlessly powerless under the circumstances.
I beseeched that all five men get a full recompense for the humiliation and mockery that they had put me through. I asked God that whatever punishment was due them started that evening but appealed that may it be a very personal lifelong payback that will not affect their families.
 |
| Illustration photo: DRC police patrolling streets, our police also use same type and colour of van |
Back at the bus station I sat on a bench, all this while unable to touch my chin, it felt revolting having to assess the damage they had done, I also kept away from a mirror because I did not want to see what was left of the beard.
Before I get to why I would forgive unconditionally and pray for them, let’s go 24 hours prior to the incident. I had boarded a taxi going to my hotel and the driver broke into unprovoked laughter so I asked why.
He said with the two of us spotting beards, it was going to be a big headache if by any chance we encountered police. So I joined the laughter and retorted about how stupid it was for someone’s beard to be the headache of especially a law enforcement official, how could I have known I was in for a treat?
So as I sat on the bench and with different scenarios playing in my head, I recounted four years in Congo, the highs and lows, the shocks and lucks, the blessings and the lessons. Their action was a “shock” in the general scheme of events.
I was not ready to allow it pass as a “low” not even a “lesson,” there was no law – local or international that barred keeping of beards like mine. Then as I ached over having to touch and see my beard at a point, I remembered a scene from the film “Three Idiots.”
Where Prof. Virus had his mustache shaved after his employment bet on Raju failed. Specifically the scene where he used a mirror to conceal his face from his daughter. I got me laughing at my own plight.
 |
| A bearded Prof. Virus (l) and a him shielding his facial nakedness from his daughters |
I prayed that Allah makes my experience the final episode of their arbitrary use of power, that via some experience they come to appreciate the need to stick to their jobs and sit out such actions. I wished them well and it surprised me, but I got relief by so doing.
That evening through to the next morning, I continued having flashes of their action. The hurt knocked and questioned why forgive at all. I learned that saying you’d forgiven people that hurt you was only a first step. But I soldiered on with closure and can say I achieved it.
The entire episode is one that I laugh over for all its worth. About the mocking sellers, I told them to not mock me but to cry that they live under an oppressive errant police. I said one day they would turn on their hair when there are no more beards to be mowed.
The episode also gave me time to reflect on how long I have been having my beard. Since leaving secondary school, that will be after 2003. Hundreds of haircuts later, the closest a scissors has come to it is slight trimming.
I have had people compliment and attempt to desecrate it but because I don’t keep it for “haters / mockers” I hardly take note of their comments. As for the jovial comments about it, I have responded that World War III will break out it I removed it.
I doubt if the world noticed how in under five minutes, five Congolese police did me the honours of shaving it off. As they say, lest you travel out of where you are, you’d never believe the things that go on elsewhere.
The trip that got me this treat was for the records the best 10 days of my four years stay in Congo. One day when I finally quit Congo, damn I will have a lot to remember and to laugh over for all it is worth.
11th Rajab, 1441 = 6th March, 2020
