When nothing goes into the bin, something goes into the soul

Sanadin took us to a restaurant for dinner. It looked pretty much like those mini restaurants in Dublin, where my friends often take me to, except that this one was worryingly empty. 'Worrying'- because, in cities like London and Manchester (and in fact Selangor too), consumers know very well how to communicate messages amongst each other. A simple rule of thumb; less-frequented restaurants reflect the quality of food it serves. It immediately reminded me of Babah, who at his best, when taking us for a family's night out, has always avoided places of this like. Instinctively memories of Dr Asri taking us to an empty restaurant in London flashed vividly- I smiled thinking how I forced myself to enjoy the food, in respect of the ex-mufti.

Don't ask me what I had that night- I certainly had had enough of new, unfamiliar, intangible words digested, processed, and repeated in the last 24 hours. All I can remember was that I didn't finish my meal, and tried to push my plate to Nubli who also resisted. Not knowing his culture very well, I hesitantly asked our Bosnian friend's help; to my astonishment Sanadin graciously accepted my left-overs and finished it in a matter of minutes.

This incident might be overlooked by many, if not most of us. However I can't help but to think about its potential underlying causes and effects. As my story unfolds, if God had willed, it will become clear to readers that this culture- the abhorrence to wasting- is in no way exclusive to Sanadin. In fact it was too extensive that I sometimes worry about infectability issues! It can be said that Muslims in general find its roots in the verse in the Qur'an that relegates and degrades a person who wastes to being a close sibling of the devils. When put into practice, anyone would quickly realise that it demanded more values to jump into the scene- e.g. love, togetherness, aid, selflessness, and humility; to name but a few. As an example, without humility, one can never imagine himself proudly eating the left-overs of another- not unless if the person was someone special and loved!

When everyone finished, we payed the bills and walked out. It felt so different- that I was so refreshed by the meal. Taking the first few steps into the fresh air of Sarajevo again, I reconfigured my previously exhausted self- which almost turned to hibernation mode- back to the vigilant, alert Safwan. So we set off to experience the exotic "moon-lit Baščaršija".