JAMILA'S MEMO: Lest... Yes, We forget!

Among those who passed away was a Member of Parliament, a man described by many as someone who fought for his people, someone who will be deeply missed by his family, his friends, and his constituents.

He was a politician, an elected leader, from the ruling party. But in death, titles fade. What remains is the human being. A father. A colleague. A friend. A son. A husband.

What shocked me, however, was what happened after the tragedy. Barely twenty-four hours later, our political leaders were back at it.

On church podiums, standing on top of vehicles, addressing crowds, talking politics, making promises if elected in 2027 I will do this and that; as if nothing had happened. 

And I couldn’t help but think death is so final. So very final. In Islam, we are reminded: Kullu nafsun dha’iqatul maut; meaning every soul shall taste death. It is the one certainty we all share.

The only mystery is when. So what would have gone so terribly wrong if, just for a moment, our leaders had paused? Paused to remember, to mourn, to pray or to simply be present for grieving families and a grieving nation.

Because sometimes politicians easily fall into the trap of appearing heartless or pretentious. During the funeral, you might not even recognize them as the same people who were politicking so soon after such a tragedy. Suddenly the tone changes, the speeches become solemn, and mourning itself becomes a spectacle.

What would have been lost if church services had remained about prayer, not politics?

If rallies had been postponed? Political meetings had been cancelled for the moment? If leaders had chosen compassion, chosen utu? Because moments like these reveal something deeper. They show us whether leadership is about service, or simply about self. 

A colleague has died unexpectedly someone you knew, someone you met, someone you worked with. The least you can do is respect them, even in death. Right now, families are mourning.

A father grieving a son who had begun carrying family responsibilities. A wife mourning her spouse. Children and siblings preparing to bury someone they loved.

The least we can expect from those who lead us is a pause, a simple, human pause out of respect, compassion, and basic human decency. 

And perhaps that is the reminder this week leaves us with: That beyond titles, politics and the noise what matters most is how we treat each other in moments of loss. To be human. To show compassion. To have utu.That is my memo.