Humans of Humanity

“Hi there. My name’s Ahmad. Can I sit beside you?”

“Hello. Sure, go ahead.”

“Are you from around here?”

“Yeah, I’ve lived here since I was little.”

“You must have been through quite a few things then.”

“You could say that, yes.”

“Um, can I tell you something?”

“Yes, what is it?”

“I actually run a website that is followed by quite a number of people. What I do is I talk to people who are from around here and put up on the website the things I’ve learned from those people I talked to. I also take pictures of those people, to show those who go to the website that these people are real people living here.”

“Ah, that sounds nice.”

“Yes, you could say that. If you don’t mind, can I ask you some things to put up on the website?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Great, thanks! Um, so yeah. If you could give one piece of advice to a large group of people, what would it be?”

“Heh. That’s a good question. Hm, let me think.”

“Sure, take your time.”

“Hm. Ah. Don’t take your parents for granted.”

“Hm. Any particular reason for this piece of advice?”

“Well, my father passed away two months ago.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. But every day since he was buried, I have gone to his grave for at least ten minutes just to talk. I never did that when he was alive. The only time I ever saw him was once a year during Hari Raya. And even those I didn’t particularly enjoy. I always just wanted to get it over and done with. Always .. in a rush to .. to get .. somewhere else. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Take all the time you need.”

“*sniff* It wasn’t like I had anywhere to go either. I just didn’t want to be there, in the old house. And it wasn’t like he was an abusive father or anything. Nothing like that. I just disliked him for some reason. For no reason, really.”

“Hm.”

“And now that he’s gone, I just feel a great big loss, like there’s this huge hole inside me that won’t close. I know it sounds ridiculous, but that’s what it feels like. And the ten minutes I spend at his grave is the only time I feel like the hole’s not that big, y’know?”

“What do you go there to talk about?”

“All sorts of things, really. Anything. From how my day went to how much I regret not talking to him more when he was alive. Truth be told, in the first week I didn’t really say much. All I did was cry. And I didn’t stop until around a half hour afterwards, and then lI’d leave. But then at some point I started talking. I’d say ‘Hi Ayah. How are things? I’m alright. Just dropping by to say hi.’ Things like that, y’know?”

“Yeah.”

“Heh, I must sound ridiculous telling you all these things.”

“No, not at all. Thanks for sharing. I really appreciate it.”

“Thank you for listening. Really.”