The Causes Close To Our Hearts
How the actions of one person saved my life and influence me to this day
When I was 7, I almost died.
I had drifted to the deep side of the swimming pool without realizing it. My sister and I were enjoying our time together at a farmhouse.
Minutes later, I was fighting for my life and no one knew.
I don’t remember what I was thinking except for one thing — If I could make it to the shallow side of the pool somehow, I would survive. But I did not know how to swim. Still, I had to try so I extended my arms and legs and tried to swim how I thought was possible while gasping for air.
The few seconds that I was underwater felt like hours. Exhaustion from my attempt to fight for dear life and the pain from struggling but not being able to breathe had started to break me.
After struggling for a while, I remember how close I came to giving up. I wondered what my parents would think of their daughter dying in a pool. What would everyone else think?
I was sad because I believed I had reached the end of my life and I didn’t see any way I could save myself. I couldn’t shout. I couldn’t cry. I desperately wished someone would save me. Thankfully, someone did.
I remember breathing like I hadn’t in ages. I felt immense gratitude for that second chance at life. A stranger cared enough to help me. I was lucky. This person had witnessed my helplessness and decided to do something about it.
As I grew up, I realized that going out of your way to help someone wasn’t the easiest path one could take. It required incentive, the what-is-in-it-for-me approach. It was difficult. It was a hurdle.
Sometimes, it was easy; but it was easier to pin everything on God. Phrases like, “May God help you”, “God will take care of you”, and “I wish you God’s blessings” became common. But surely God must have a plan. His plan could involve other people. What if God instilled good intentions in the heart of one human to help another? I wasn’t alive because someone wished for someone else to save me.
Someone decided to take action and save me.
Unfortunately, I don’t see many people with the same zeal to help others as that kind stranger did.
I have been an advocate of justice since a young age, long before I understood its meaning. As a child, I would be quick to point hypocritical and wrong behavior, often bluntly. I still do it, but I am relatively rational and empathetic with my approach. We all have the innate sense to distinguish between right and wrong. But we choose to stay silent. And our collective silence breeds an unjust society.
My concept of fairness didn’t allow me to differentiate between humans and animals. For me, it wasn’t a question of us versus them. It was about treating animals with kindness and respect, the way I treated humans.
But most people did not think like me. Animals were commodities to most. Cows and goats were referred to as kebabs and tikkas before they had been sacrificed. Anyone foolish was name-called a donkey. Dogs were worthy investments if they belonged to a specific breed. Cats were tolerated.
I didn’t like this reality but I made my peace with it.
What I couldn’t make peace with was abuse.
I have seen and heard of children and adults bothering innocent animals for fun. Some channel their frustrations and inflict pain on animals because animals cannot speak for themselves. To this day, animal abuse makes me sick.
Animals don’t come to this world with agendas. They lead simple lives, eat-play-sleep-reproduce. Animals are innocent; they don’t bother if they aren’t bothered. So when a human being hurts them, they get confused; they don’t understand what they did to deserve this. Yet the abuse doesn’t stop. And not enough people intervene.
When we see children throwing stones on a cat searching for food, we either ignore or laugh at their naughtiness. When we crush a puppy by accident under our cars, we drive away because we are running late. When we see a dog walker kicking a dog, we refrain from saying anything because it isn’t our dog. When we hear a neighborhood dog cry at night in agony, we hold the pillow closer to our ears so we can sleep better.
While we choose to walk away from problems we can help solve, we remember to ask God for help.
A few months ago, I encountered a different view of animals in Turkey. I remember walking into a makeup shop to see a dog up close. I was ready to pet the dog only to be stopped by a saleswoman.
She had put some water for this beautiful stray dog and wanted to make sure he drank it. She didn’t want visitors to disturb him while he was thirsty. She was worried for him as if her job depended on it. My first thoughts were of disbelief.
I couldn’t imagine anything remotely close back home.
Once while my friends and I were walking, it started to rain heavily. We rushed back to our hotel. On the way, I witnessed stray dogs and cats taking shelter at mobile shops, grocery stores, and bakeries. At night, we saw dogs waiting outside stores for food. Children came to say hello on their cycles, unguarded and unafraid, happy to play with the dogs. At the same time, shopkeepers brought plates filled with food for these dogs.
My heart was full. This was so strange but so wholesome. This was the Turkish way. But I envied them. They made it look effortless to be kind, their compassion and willingness to give without any expectations.
It was no surprise that the animals in Turkey were happy, with full confidence and sass on display.
The fear of street dogs is so deep-rooted in most of us Pakistanis. I hesitated for a few seconds when I called a dog out but decided to trust my gut and not move back. He came close, sniffed me, and laid down on my feet asking for a belly rub. And just like that, all my fear was gone.
They say dogs are unclean but I witnessed them sleeping outside the Blue Mosque. I saw all types of Muslims stop by to pet the dogs. It also made me think of other issues with the typical Pakistani mindset.
Everything happens for a reason. A threatened and abused dog will react. It might bite. It might bark. What else can we expect? We shoot dogs. We poison them. We hurt them. We kill their families. And we keep repeating this in hopes of eliminating all these ‘dirty’ and ‘unclean’ dogs.
But they aren’t gone for long.
These dogs breed aggressively when they are under threat and months later, we see our communities filled with these strays once again. One would think we would give up and try a different approach after failing so many times. But we don’t.
I can’t imagine the pain our street dogs go through while they desperately wait for death. The methods used to kill prolong suffering. The cause of death is either multiple bullet wounds across the body or poison that seeps through each organ slowly. What comes close is my experience underwater where I fought each second to breathe. I experienced pain for a few seconds only.
I don’t know how it feels when you’re fighting for your life for hours confused about what you did to deserve this.
Our efforts towards killing these dogs have been commendable, makes me think how well we can leverage our skills if we work for a good cause, like befriending neighborhood animals. And we have the perfect opportunity.
Ramadan is the month of reflection and community.
We can utilize every day of this blessed month to take some form of action, big or small, whether it’s for humans or animals. We can choose to exit Ramadan as better people. It’s time to support the causes close to our hearts.
One day, the world will thank us like I thank the stranger who saved my life.
