Free AI web copilot to create summaries, insights and extended knowledge, download it at here

Abstract

="3d44">Whoever welcomed us, we stayed. Whoever treated us the opposite, we moved on. Whoever manipulated us, we will never look back into the same place ever again.<figure id="14d8"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*AIkr5-xJ1GMmERG_v1l49w.jpeg"><figcaption>Photo By Author Norlisa Alias taken in Yemen — Shibam wandering on the landscape of sand near sunset. This occurred when Yemen faced a lack of diesel and fuel each year. We could only go nearby our areas to have a breather, de-stressed, play, and have fun with selfies.</figcaption></figure>Right in the middle of the vast sand landscape, I asked myself whether reconciliation was worth the try. What if she had erased me from her memories? What if I make the first move and she rejects me? Would I have the strength to accept her reactions after many tiring moments in life?My heart nudged me to reach out to her.“Peace be upon you, Hatice. This is Norlisa. How have you been? I would like to apologize if your heart ached over my brutal honesty. I was wrong for being too direct. It was my mistake. Forgive me, will you?”I felt so much relief that it did not matter if she had forgotten me or would not reply anymore. I wished that moment I could reach out to several people. I did not know if I would ever return to my country. In fact, a younger person than me had passed away there subsequently.“Sister Norlisa? Is that really you? Where are you now?” she replied.It was a good sign.“Yes, I am. It is me. I am not in our country for some time already. I left and found my solace in Yemen. Look girl, I got only uncertain minutes as the network is very bad here. I am sorry.” I said againSurprisingly, she felt elated. She felt happy to hear from me again as we typed via Messenger.“No! No, sister. It wasn’t your fault. It was my fault. I did not understand back then what you had said. But I do, now. I am sorry.” she respondedAfter exchanging some messages, both of us were relieved that we never lost the friendship at all. I was in the middle of the desert in Yemen, and she was in Singapore, and our friendship bloomed again.“By the way, I would be coming for a short visitation to Yemen. I sa

Options

ved my monies and begged my parents to let me visit the saints there. I would be seeing you, will I?” she asked.<figure id="5438"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*KhlYvizlgEJtadFRSLj-xg.jpeg"><figcaption>Photo By Author Norlisa Alias in Yemen — Tarim outside one of our beloved houses (Habib Hassan Al Hamid) after our weekly sessions with him. We were playing outside his house while waiting for our transport at night to return to our apartment.</figcaption></figure>A month later, Hatice arrived and we met in Tarim. I was sent over to Tarim for other purposes before returning to Hautah again. That night, the scholar who was in charge of my team sent us to a school on the hill slope for a celebration.It was exactly where Hatice was sent to! We saw each other. We hugged. That impoverished country helped in healing broken hearts. We spoke in a corner.We realized that we had forgotten whatever past hurts we created between ourselves. We had long forgiven without even waiting to hear the word Sorry.She shared how much she had wanted to reach out to me. However, I was low profile having less of a social media presence. She was afraid I did not want to see her in my life ever again.There was so much to update each other. In those 4-years her beloved dad was down with a lot of health complications. Her life progress was halted having to double up earning bread and butter for her family. She was the only daughter in the family, thus often she treasured anyone who is older than herself.I shared my experiences and pain. She listened intently and attentively. She said, “You know, those who God loves to the ranks of prophets and saints are those who would be tested very hard. All the prophets whether Ibrahim (Abraham), Musa (Moses), Nuh (Noah), Isa (Jesus), or Muhammed had their terrible times too.”I could never imagine having that 10 minutes being wasted and not reaching out to Hatice that day.Today, I pray that good friends and relationships blossom among our writers wherever all of you are. May all of you be destined to meet in person for goodness sake. May everyone get an opportunity to reconcile and find healing.This is my 2nd piece of the Yemen story — reach out and heal.</article></body>

Friendship | Yemen

Reaching Out To A Broken Friendship In 10 Minutes While Wandering On A Desert

Out of nowhere, there was an internet connection and we reconciled

Photo By Author Norlisa Alias in Yemen — Shibam — A new mosque built under the sage and saint of a few hundred years ago Habib Ahmed Bin Zein Al Habsyi. Look at the rays of sunset in the sky. No filter was used on this photo.

I managed to get to the vast land of Shibam with some younger sisters from Asian countries. Shibam was located nearest to our place — Hautah. It was known as the 1st city of knowledge before Do’an and then shifted to Tarim.

We entertained ourselves with selfies while kicking the sand around. Some were seated in the middle of the landscape of sand. We knew we would go separate ways, back to our homeland no sooner or later. We decided to make some memories if we ever lost touch.

Do you think we had a strong Internet connection?

There was no network connection at most of the places in Yemen. It was that day, almost going to sunset, I noticed the signal on my phone.

The messenger app worked very well. I seldom used the Messenger app.

It was that time I scrolled through the contacts and chanced upon the name Hatice (not her real name). My heartbeat was fast.

We were from the same tertiary school, but we met in a mosque. Our hearts grew further from each other after being so close together.

Every friendship will be tested.

One day we had differences in opinions and perceptions. We got into a heaty argument and confusion. There was a miscommunication. Subsequently, we had a communication breakdown.

She was among the few of my dear sisters who love praise and worship. We never failed to sit among the scholars and descendants of prophets. We fell out over minor trivial matters. We had not communicated for 4-solid years!

We had one thing in common. We flow and adapt with anyone, but we never got settled down into any specific cliques. We never liked to be owned by anybody or any groups.

Whoever welcomed us, we stayed. Whoever treated us the opposite, we moved on. Whoever manipulated us, we will never look back into the same place ever again.

Photo By Author Norlisa Alias taken in Yemen — Shibam wandering on the landscape of sand near sunset. This occurred when Yemen faced a lack of diesel and fuel each year. We could only go nearby our areas to have a breather, de-stressed, play, and have fun with selfies.

Right in the middle of the vast sand landscape, I asked myself whether reconciliation was worth the try. What if she had erased me from her memories? What if I make the first move and she rejects me? Would I have the strength to accept her reactions after many tiring moments in life?

My heart nudged me to reach out to her.

“Peace be upon you, Hatice. This is Norlisa. How have you been? I would like to apologize if your heart ached over my brutal honesty. I was wrong for being too direct. It was my mistake. Forgive me, will you?”

I felt so much relief that it did not matter if she had forgotten me or would not reply anymore. I wished that moment I could reach out to several people. I did not know if I would ever return to my country. In fact, a younger person than me had passed away there subsequently.

“Sister Norlisa? Is that really you? Where are you now?” she replied.

It was a good sign.

“Yes, I am. It is me. I am not in our country for some time already. I left and found my solace in Yemen. Look girl, I got only uncertain minutes as the network is very bad here. I am sorry.” I said again

Surprisingly, she felt elated. She felt happy to hear from me again as we typed via Messenger.

“No! No, sister. It wasn’t your fault. It was my fault. I did not understand back then what you had said. But I do, now. I am sorry.” she responded

After exchanging some messages, both of us were relieved that we never lost the friendship at all. I was in the middle of the desert in Yemen, and she was in Singapore, and our friendship bloomed again.

“By the way, I would be coming for a short visitation to Yemen. I saved my monies and begged my parents to let me visit the saints there. I would be seeing you, will I?” she asked.

Photo By Author Norlisa Alias in Yemen — Tarim outside one of our beloved houses (Habib Hassan Al Hamid) after our weekly sessions with him. We were playing outside his house while waiting for our transport at night to return to our apartment.

A month later, Hatice arrived and we met in Tarim. I was sent over to Tarim for other purposes before returning to Hautah again. That night, the scholar who was in charge of my team sent us to a school on the hill slope for a celebration.

It was exactly where Hatice was sent to! We saw each other. We hugged. That impoverished country helped in healing broken hearts. We spoke in a corner.

We realized that we had forgotten whatever past hurts we created between ourselves. We had long forgiven without even waiting to hear the word Sorry.

She shared how much she had wanted to reach out to me. However, I was low profile having less of a social media presence. She was afraid I did not want to see her in my life ever again.

There was so much to update each other. In those 4-years her beloved dad was down with a lot of health complications. Her life progress was halted having to double up earning bread and butter for her family. She was the only daughter in the family, thus often she treasured anyone who is older than herself.

I shared my experiences and pain. She listened intently and attentively. She said, “You know, those who God loves to the ranks of prophets and saints are those who would be tested very hard. All the prophets whether Ibrahim (Abraham), Musa (Moses), Nuh (Noah), Isa (Jesus), or Muhammed had their terrible times too.”

I could never imagine having that 10 minutes being wasted and not reaching out to Hatice that day.

Today, I pray that good friends and relationships blossom among our writers wherever all of you are. May all of you be destined to meet in person for goodness sake. May everyone get an opportunity to reconcile and find healing.

This is my 2nd piece of the Yemen story — reach out and heal.