A prolific writer with a rich legacy in the literary and community spheres of East Africa. Over several decades, he has authored insightful columns and crosswords for prominent publications such as the Sunday Nation, Sunday News, Business Times, Guardian, Coastweek, and Daily News. Currently, he pens a thought-provoking weekly column for the Tanzania Sunday News, where he delves into themes of spirituality, personal growth, and reflections on life, aiming to foster inter-faith harmony.
Alhaj Munir has extensively contributed to the Africa Federation. He served as the Editorial Board Chairman and Editor of the Federation Samachar for 33 years, with tenures from 1983 to 2004 and again from 2010 to 2023. In recognition of his exemplary service, he was awarded the prestigious Abbasi Medal in 2016.
The Inevitability of Oblivion
There exists within each of us a longing to be somebody – to leave behind proof that we were here and that our lives mattered. Many of us attempt to suppress or ignore this desire because it reminds us of our mortality. Yet the truth is that few can completely escape the wish to be remembered.
We may outwardly claim not to harbour such feelings, but our subconscious often reveals otherwise. It is deeply human to fear not only our extinction but also the possibility of fading away without significance.
It is natural for loving parents or grandparents to hope that their children or grandchildren will remember them long after they are gone. They dedicate countless hours to raising them, educating them, caring for their health, providing nourishment, spending quality time with them, taking them on holidays, and instilling values that guide them away from vice. Their desire to be remembered stems not from vanity but from love and sacrifice.
People seek remembrance for different reasons. Some wish to be remembered for their philanthropy, others for their religious devotion, professional achievements, writings, wealth, or moral character. Some hope to leave a legacy through the homes they built, the businesses they established, the vehicles they drove, or even the grand celebrations they organised for their families.
Ironically, in the pursuit of popularity and recognition, some people abandon reason and morality. Desperate to be remembered, they may engage in unethical or even illegal activities. Consider those who amass wealth through dishonest means and then spend a fraction of it on charitable causes, religious institutions, or social projects. Society may applaud their generosity, yet what value is such popularity if it is built upon injustice? A good reputation cannot erase a corrupt foundation.
Time has a remarkable way of erasing human footprints. Within a few generations, memories fade, names are forgotten, and traces of one’s existence grow faint. History remembers a select few, but remembering a name is not the same as remembering a person.
Several years ago, while visiting the grand palaces built by the Mughal rulers in India, I marvelled at their magnificent architecture and artistic brilliance. Yet behind the splendour lay stories of excess, indulgence, and moral failure. Tour guides recounted both admirable and shameful aspects of some of those rulers’ lives. Their names survived through history, but there was no emotional connection to them – only historical curiosity. Similar impressions arise when visiting some of the historic palaces in Zanzibar. The structures remain, but the people who once filled them with ambition, pride, joy, and sorrow have long since vanished from living memory.
Our true objective in life is to increase our productivity through honest efforts and make a meaningful contribution with righteous conduct. In the process, there are many nice things to enjoy in life. However, a life devoted solely to seeking popularity, especially at the expense of one’s spiritual substance, often leads to hypocrisy and self-deception.
Worldly fame cannot accompany us to the grave. Neither can wealth, status, titles, nor the number of people who attend our funeral. Even if a thousand mourners gather to bid us farewell, we enter the grave alone. Ultimately, we stand before our Creator with nothing but our deeds.
It is not public applause that will benefit us in the life to come, but the goodness we cultivated, the kindness we showed, the honesty we upheld, and the sincerity with which we worshipped our Creator and served his creations.
In the eyes of the world, most of us will eventually be forgotten. Yet if our lives are lived with integrity and purpose, being forgotten by mankind need not matter. What matters is how we present ourselves to the Creator, as ultimately every soul will stand before Allah (SWT) with only its deeds.
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