BLESSED ARE THOSE WHO READ ME

My work is the result of a lot of research and it is so frustrating to discover that few people read me. This is even more so, because I pretend to awaken our society. Therefore, I am very grateful to those who do read me.

They say that people have no time to read, so I published some series of short messages that are not longer than a tweet. But people continued to ignore my search for a better comprehension. While the pictures I post on facebook get a lot of likes, the last messages I posted got 0 likes. This made me feel so miserable that I considered posting: ‘WISDOM 0 – IGNORANCE: 1’. I didn’t, because I thought of those who have encouraged me to continue posting new articles on my blog and those who have told me that my articles are life-changing.

Blessed are those who read me. Do I believe in blessings? Do I believe in curses? I don’t know. Let me tell you a true story. Once, when I was working as a guide, we arrived at Kashgar, in the Muslim part of China. The banks were closed, but we needed local currency to pay for our meals. With the hotel offering such a bad exchange rate, I decided to go to the black market. One of my local contacts knew someone who offered a good rate and this man came to our hotel.

In my hotelroom we exchanged euros for yuan. We both counted the money and then shook hands. Five minutes later, when I went down to meet my group and take them out for dinner, I see this man talking very lively to my local contact. He claims 10 euros are missing. Not wanting to make a scene in front of my group, I take this person aside. I am almost sure that I gave him the correct amount, but I want to give him the advantage of doubt. Therefore, I grab his hand, put it on his heart, and pronounce three times the name of the prophet. I don’t speak Chinese or Uighur, but I made him understand that he is swearing on Allah not to have received those 10 euros. Then I gave him 10 euros and we shook hands again.

That night, back to the hotel, I counted all my money and that convinced me that I had given him the right amount. I felt terrible, because I consider that things occur not just randomly, but follow a certain pattern. Let me be frank. I have not always been an honest person. As an adolescent I came to consider that shoplifting was ‘cool’. But later, when I got picpocket, I learned to see the other side of misbehaviour. This made me realize that I should not do to others what I do not want them to do to me. The idea of karma became to make sense.

In this case I did not think I deserved what happened to me. For a while I wondered whether he had cheated me because he felt that he did not earn enough. Sometimes when you bargain too much, the seller feels cheated and also that causes bad karma. Karma is of course not about what is illegal – there is a lot of legal theft and legal murder – but about what creates bad vibrations. But I had not bargained with him at all. I had accepted his rates, because I had tried other contacts, and knew they were the best I could get.

That night I woke up several times. On each occasion the first thing I was reminded of was the black market man. Being unable to accept that things happen without a reason, I wondered what I had to learn from this experience. Not finding what this could be, I started fretting. Since the idea of having been conned is so unpleasant, I started to hate this man more and more. Although I assumed that, being a bad person, this man did not care about how I felt, I still wanted him to know how upset I was. I thought to contact him in the morning to tell him that he was not in debt with me, but with Allah. But then I assumed also this would not bother him. Therefore, it came to mind that I should add 'till the third generation' because I assumed that this could make a difference; that this could worry him.

The next morning I learned my contact had erased this man’s telephone number. My contact was so ashamed that this man was a compatriot, and that he had put me in touch with him, that he no longer wanted to have any dealings with him. This was a disappointment for me, because I really wanted this man to know that he had not a debt with me, but with Allah and this to the third generation. I'm pretty spiteful and found it difficult to forget about him. Later, it turned out that also he did not forget about me.

That afternoon my contact received a call from this man. He had counted the money again in the morning and found he had an extra 10 euros. He offered a thousand apologies and explained what had happened. When he saw us the previous night he had been very tired, because it was Ramadan and as a good Muslim he had fasted all day. Being tired and in a hurry to get home, because it was just after sunset, and he could finally eat, he had made a mistake when counting the money. When exchanging money he was happy with a small margin, and this was why he had reacted so agressively when he thought 10 euros were missing.

So everything was due to a mistake. This made me very happy, but what would have happened if I had not given him those 10 extra euros? Would he, in that case, still have apologized when finding that money the following day? In the end both of us learned something very important: that we can trust each other. That is always good to know in regards to the future. That night he passed by the hotel to reimburse the 10 euros. He was so embarrassed. I wonder whether it was because of that he had asked his grandson to accompany him. It was only later, after they left, that this reminded me of my ‘third generation’ curse.

Blessed are those who read me. They give me the strenght to continue writing, to continue investigating, to continue questionning old ideas and old beliefs. I am so grateful to my readers that I send them good vibrations.