Archives (20th July 2018): Boys cry

01/12/18 03:34

There is an old and renowned Polish comedy by Olaf Lubaszenko titled ‘Boys Do Not Cry’. As you can easily imagine, the film suggests that men are meant to be tough, regardless of life's challenges...

I must admit, both Tahir and I may have been a little emotional recently. The success of Tahir’s resettlement visa for Canada presented us with a situation where we needed to bid farewell to each other. Though Tahir isn't scheduled to depart for Toronto until the 15th of August, yesterday he had to present himself at Bangkok’s immigration detention centre (IDC). Refugees in Thailand are not acknowledged by the authorities. Despite being recognized as UNHCR refugees, Thailand chooses to treat them as illegal migrants due to their lack of valid visas. Part of being deemed an illegal migrant in Thailand entails not being able to leave the country without facing official repercussions. The penalties are severe: hefty fines and mandatory detention for three weeks, followed by a potential ban from reentering the country for a minimum of five years. For Tahir, this means enduring imprisonment before being granted freedom in Canada—a cruel reality, to say the least. So, with a heavy heart and a sense of profound injustice, Tahir bid farewell to us all before reporting to the IDC in Bangkok to commence his final trial before attaining freedom. Though I am outraged, I won't delve into why I find his (and others') detention grossly unjust. Instead, I prefer to reflect on the remarkable friendship I've shared with Tahir over the past four years.

We are vastly different in many respects. Tahir hails from one of the most disadvantaged regions of Pakistani society—oppressed to the point of needing to flee for his life, as many sought to harm him for his religious affiliation. His disadvantaged status also deprived him of education; he only completed four years of primary school. The rest of his schooling was rendered impossible as his family constantly fled from one place to another to evade harm. As time passed, Tahir's life continued to be fraught with suffering and humiliation, including his recent years in Thailand. His arrival in Bangkok, in search of safety, exacted a significant toll. During his initial years in the country, Tahir fell victim to slavery, endured beatings and severe abuse, faced humiliation from criminals, police, and even ordinary citizens who treated him poorly. He grappled with the fear of detention and deportation to Pakistan, battled hunger and malnutrition, and harbored fears about his uncertain future and the prospect of leading a fulfilled life. Moreover, he felt doomed, convinced that he didn't deserve any better simply because he was 'a worthless Ahmadyyia from Pakistan'—a belief he struggled to overcome.

On the other hand, there's me—an overprivileged white male with an excellent education, a successful career, and an enviable lifestyle. I have the privilege of traversing the globe and enjoy automatic trustworthiness attributed to my status, EU passport, and skin color—advantages I didn't earn but received by virtue of my birthplace. Yes, I've encountered obstacles in life; yes, I've worked hard. However, my challenges have always been surmountable, and I've never had to worry about my very existence.

Then, two profoundly different individuals—Tahir and I—crossed paths. We hail from disparate backgrounds, cultures, and nationalities, speak different languages, and hold different religious beliefs. One is young, the other middle-aged. Through sheer luck or coincidence, we found ourselves in the same place at the same time—one begging on the street, the other dining in a restaurant overlooking that very street. One laden with despair and hunger, the other indulging in his favorite dishes and planning overseas vacations. One impoverished, the other affluent. Yet, against all odds, we struck up a conversation and have continued it for all these years. Tahir has become my closest friend, perhaps the closest I'll ever have. Our bond is so special that some speculate we may be a romantic couple!

I'm not entirely sure why things unfolded the way they did. What I do know is that Tahir challenged me to my core, forcing me to confront my arrogance and privilege in tangible ways. Before meeting him, I may have been aware of my fortunate life and the world's injustices, but it was all largely theoretical and inconsequential. Meeting Tahir changed everything. Slowly and patiently, he taught me to slow down, appreciate the little things, and acknowledge the people around me and their perspectives. He taught me to be less fearful and judgmental, even towards those different from me or my social circle. Most importantly, he taught me to trust others, even against the odds. He demonstrated that it's okay to be hurt and deceived by others, advocating for extending trust to those around us rather than succumbing to fear and potentially missing out on beautiful human connections.

Now, my greatest teacher has departed from my life in Thailand, preparing for freedom in Canada. During our last conversation before his detention, we were both visibly emotional. It was then that Tahir expressed his gratitude for our meeting and confessed he didn't know how to thank me for giving him a new lease on life. Yet, it is I who owes my life to him, perhaps even more than he believes he owes to me. Like you, Tahir, I am uncertain how to express my gratitude for all you've done and continue to do for me. Meeting you has been the greatest stroke of luck, and I will forever cherish your guidance, kindness, and unconditional friendship. I eagerly anticipate the opportunities the future holds for you and hope the ordeal the Thai authorities have prepared for you isn't too arduous to endure. Thank you, my friend. Your absence will be keenly felt.

And who dares to claim that boys do not shed tears?

Updates and news

Archives (20th July 2018): Boys cry