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It’s very hard to be happy. The whirlwind of constant badgering-challenges gleefully arrests joyfulness . . . Some among us are smarter––they navigate through the chaos with grace, some struggle to surface above the quagmires of heartbreaks. . .
What is “happiness?” I keep wondering . . .
Izara, my 4-year-old-granddaughter is the Zeus-of-joy in my life.
“Bibijaan, you’re old. I am new,” she smiles. It’s the absolute truth.
My world bursts into trillion colors of joy. I forget the worries living rent free in my brain . . . (Bibijaan in Bangla means a woman with an attitude. That’s how I want her to remember me).
I am told––all happiness comes from inner peace. Life is too short to worry . . .
"Waking up this morning, I smile.
Twenty-four brand new hours are before me.
. . . . . . .
When my mouth is fragrant with right speech,
a flower blooms in the garden of my heart"––these lines are from Thich Nhat Hanh, a teacher and a Zen master. He stresses on mindfulness, defines it as "the energy of being aware and awake to the present."
Mind-theologists insist that compassion, forgiveness, patience, peace and trust can lead to spirituality and happiness––a person’s fundamental responsibility is to be happy.
In Afghanistan, every guest house had a gym to work out–– to activate our endorphin-starved brains into a resilient-happy-mode. It was the policy . . . to flush our minds with happy-hormones. However, I believe UNICEF’s management-hard disk was (still is) somewhat infected with vice-virus of nepotism, prejudices and ridiculous arrogance––focused more on myopic check-the box achievements rather than genuine betterment of staff. (There are numerous examples to arrive at such inferences––international staff recruited for a maximum term of 2 years in high-emergency, non-family duty stations were/are conveniently forgotten, national staff were/are treated differently, limited/low skills of HR, etc.). The impotent approaches and policies mostly influenced by the razzmatazz of misguided focus attempt to attain “conduciveness” rather than “smart-fairness” ––as dished out mainly by NYHQ (resistant to change), followed by country offices affected by a theoretical-high-brow- hollow-soul syndrome, inadequate to cater to holistic staff well-being. Some say that self-criticism can be good for the soul––eventually leads to peace, happiness (?). Anyway. . .
. . . I found Kiribati basically a nation of happy people. Each country in the south Pacific is unique in its culture, heritage, location and population. Fiji’s islands bear the flavor of paradise––its turquoise waters are magical.
Kiribati-islands reign majestic in their intense isolation, dancing on the crowns of roaring waves of the Pacific Ocean. People here believe that they are happier than the Fijians. Racial tension still prevails in Fiji between the native Fijians and Indo-Fijians. Kiribati fosters egalitarian philosophies.
. . . The Bonriki International airport, hospital and the UN offices were at one end of Tarawa Island––the capital. At the other end were the 4 embassies, the President’s office and the Ministries. I lived in Temwaiku village––near to the airport, terribly close to the ocean. The ocean was everywhere––the salty-sandy-seaweed-stench breezed in now and then. I used to buy incense sticks to burn at home––my remedy to out-do the smell of the waters.
Twenty-four brand new hours are before me.
. . . . . . .
When my mouth is fragrant with right speech,
a flower blooms in the garden of my heart"––these lines are from Thich Nhat Hanh, a teacher and a Zen master. He stresses on mindfulness, defines it as "the energy of being aware and awake to the present."
Mind-theologists insist that compassion, forgiveness, patience, peace and trust can lead to spirituality and happiness––a person’s fundamental responsibility is to be happy.
In Afghanistan, every guest house had a gym to work out–– to activate our endorphin-starved brains into a resilient-happy-mode. It was the policy . . . to flush our minds with happy-hormones. However, I believe UNICEF’s management-hard disk was (still is) somewhat infected with vice-virus of nepotism, prejudices and ridiculous arrogance––focused more on myopic check-the box achievements rather than genuine betterment of staff. (There are numerous examples to arrive at such inferences––international staff recruited for a maximum term of 2 years in high-emergency, non-family duty stations were/are conveniently forgotten, national staff were/are treated differently, limited/low skills of HR, etc.). The impotent approaches and policies mostly influenced by the razzmatazz of misguided focus attempt to attain “conduciveness” rather than “smart-fairness” ––as dished out mainly by NYHQ (resistant to change), followed by country offices affected by a theoretical-high-brow- hollow-soul syndrome, inadequate to cater to holistic staff well-being. Some say that self-criticism can be good for the soul––eventually leads to peace, happiness (?). Anyway. . .
. . . I found Kiribati basically a nation of happy people. Each country in the south Pacific is unique in its culture, heritage, location and population. Fiji’s islands bear the flavor of paradise––its turquoise waters are magical.
Kiribati-islands reign majestic in their intense isolation, dancing on the crowns of roaring waves of the Pacific Ocean. People here believe that they are happier than the Fijians. Racial tension still prevails in Fiji between the native Fijians and Indo-Fijians. Kiribati fosters egalitarian philosophies.
. . . The Bonriki International airport, hospital and the UN offices were at one end of Tarawa Island––the capital. At the other end were the 4 embassies, the President’s office and the Ministries. I lived in Temwaiku village––near to the airport, terribly close to the ocean. The ocean was everywhere––the salty-sandy-seaweed-stench breezed in now and then. I used to buy incense sticks to burn at home––my remedy to out-do the smell of the waters.
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| Ocean everywhere |
Early mornings, the welcoming sounds of sweeping took me back to my childhood––at my grandparents’ village homestead it was a routine. From the window I could see Agnes, my landlady busy with the broom, under the coconut trees. There were no birds, no chickens . . . the peaceful ambience captured by my window, Agnes’ serene face made me happy. Forgotten was the boundless isolation . . . everyday troubles of non-functioning Wi Fi, cell phone, or power outages, scarcity of petrol, drinking water . . . unavailability of cooking-gas . . .
On those mornings I was happy––I began to heal from the trauma of 4 years of Afghanistan.
Mormon missionary apprentices in pairs walking on the dusty road was a common sight in Tarawa. These young men would often run to assist me in carrying my groceries to my bungalow.
“How do you like being here? A long way from Utah,” I wanted to know.
“We are here to help others. Spread the words of Jesus Christ,” was the response.
They lived in a house with other missionaries––two minutes’ walk from my house and the ocean. On some nights I walked over to their side to watch the moonlight playing on the waves.
The vast, silent ocean bewitched by the moonlight spread tranquil-joy in my bloodstream. I forgot my worries––not being able to connect with my mom in Dhaka, my son in D.C.
At the end of the month, Agnes used to come over to read the electricity meter. I would offer her snacks from my stash––the goodies I usually bought from the US or Fiji. One time I offered her raisins.
“What fruit is this, Nuzhat?” Agnes had never eaten raisins.
“I love the taste,” she said, nibbling. Being able to offer this tiny delight to Agnes filled my heart with joy. She and the community had been extremely kind to me––always.
I gave her the rest of the raisins I had. She didn’t want to accept it at first, afraid of robbing me of my treats . . . From then on, every time I travelled back to Tarawa from leave or missions, I was sure to carry a packet of raisins for my friend-Agnes.
. . . Humans are meant to be resilient, happy. The joy of not being happy is not an option.
Click here to read more articles by Nuzhat
Or write to her at nuzhatshahzadi@gmail.com
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| Agnes sweeping the frontyard |
On those mornings I was happy––I began to heal from the trauma of 4 years of Afghanistan.
Mormon missionary apprentices in pairs walking on the dusty road was a common sight in Tarawa. These young men would often run to assist me in carrying my groceries to my bungalow.
 |
| An LDS/a Mormon Church |
“How do you like being here? A long way from Utah,” I wanted to know.
“We are here to help others. Spread the words of Jesus Christ,” was the response.
They lived in a house with other missionaries––two minutes’ walk from my house and the ocean. On some nights I walked over to their side to watch the moonlight playing on the waves.
 |
| Moonlight on the waters |
The vast, silent ocean bewitched by the moonlight spread tranquil-joy in my bloodstream. I forgot my worries––not being able to connect with my mom in Dhaka, my son in D.C.
At the end of the month, Agnes used to come over to read the electricity meter. I would offer her snacks from my stash––the goodies I usually bought from the US or Fiji. One time I offered her raisins.
“What fruit is this, Nuzhat?” Agnes had never eaten raisins.
“I love the taste,” she said, nibbling. Being able to offer this tiny delight to Agnes filled my heart with joy. She and the community had been extremely kind to me––always.
I gave her the rest of the raisins I had. She didn’t want to accept it at first, afraid of robbing me of my treats . . . From then on, every time I travelled back to Tarawa from leave or missions, I was sure to carry a packet of raisins for my friend-Agnes.
. . . Humans are meant to be resilient, happy. The joy of not being happy is not an option.
 |
| Happiness |
Click here to read more articles by Nuzhat
Or write to her at nuzhatshahzadi@gmail.com
Many UNICEF staff could certainly relate to this short story. The paragraph on Afghanistan is hard hitting reality especially for those in war torn places and in other emergency duty stations. I could relate it with my three years in Erbil and to a certain extent with another three years in Yemen. Best wishes.
ReplyDeleteAgree with you, Ramesh. Many thanks for your honest comments. Unicef can be more efficient, better manage its strength . . . only if the commitment to make changes is there . . . I wonder!
DeleteThanks for your good reflections, Nuzhat. I wonder why you chose to live so dangerously close to the ocean. And what caused the birds and even chicken avoid the area?
ReplyDeleteMany thanks for your kind words Horst. Just a quick note–Kiribati is made up of 33 tiny islands, only 20 are inhabited. Tarawa, where I lived is a narrow strip of land in the middle of nowhere in the Pacific Ocean. The widest part of this island was about 2 meters. I lived in that part–in Temwaiku village. Ocean is everywhere. There are no bees, butterflies, cows, birds, etc. in Tarawa. Pigs are common, and dogs (both kinds were possibly introduced by Christian missionaries along with wheat flour, sugar, etc). Taiwanese govt. was trying to promote poultry (chicken rearing) when I was there. Only sea gulls are seen at the Beito Port. If you kindly google, you will understand the broader picture. . . thanks
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