A Custom-Made Minister
By: Nahed Qarnas
Our late neighbor in Atbara, Professor Haidar Al-Safi (may God have mercy on him), worked in agricultural and animal production. His job allowed him to bring chicken home once or twice a week for his family—a luxury at the time, considering that chicken was considered a “provocative” commodity in the city of workers.
The important thing is that his eldest daughter would cause an uproar every time chicken was served for lunch. The reason? The chicken would be finished before our five-year-old little one felt full.
When the complaints over the “distribution of power” (and chicken) grew louder and more frequent, the professor brought home a whole chicken and asked his wife, teacher Huda Kambal, to cook it and serve it whole. He then called his protesting daughter, placed the entire chicken in front of her, and asked her to eat.
The little girl started eating until she was full—so full she struggled to breathe. She couldn’t manage more than the thigh. At that point, her father asked: “Are you full, Amina?”
She nodded in agreement.
Professor Haidar sighed in relief and said:
“Thank God, Amina, that you got full in my house.”
May his soul rest in eternal peace.
The current social media frenzy following the announcement of the three ministers reminded me of that story. Perhaps it can help us settle the eternal debate over those in power and the burdens of holding office. But it’s also amusing to examine the online objections and ask: What’s the actual benefit of all this ridicule and fuss about other people’s lives? As if anyone is above mistake or flaw?
Professor Moiz Omar Bakheit has received the harshest attacks—most of them revolving around a poem he once wrote, suggesting his views have since changed. That’s entirely normal. We often change opinions and shift our positions. That’s life. Positions evolve based on the requirements of the phase. In politics, this is well-known. Yesterday’s enemies can easily become today’s allies if visions align and it’s a path toward a solution.
As for Professor Ahmed Mudawi and Professor Ismat Qurashi, Facebook users couldn’t find much to criticize. Both are scholars and researchers with little presence on social media. So what did people object to instead? That all three ministers are graduates of the University of Khartoum!
At that moment, a joke popped into my mind about the mother-in-law who didn’t want her daughter to marry a suitor—even after he brought the wedding gifts. Her excuse? “The tobes (traditional dresses) are too tight.”
Anyway, in light of the above, and following the example of our neighbor Professor Haidar (may he rest in peace), I propose distributing blank sheets of paper and pens to every objector who claims to have a theory to get us out of this bottleneck. Let each one of them write down the exact specifications of their ideal minister—his qualifications, background, age, appearance, anything at all.
Then we can gather all those demands, call upon our families, sons, daughters, husbands, and wives, and head out to the Atmor Desert. There, we can sit on the ground and humbly pray to Almighty God to send us “custom-made” ministers.
A new edition. First selection.
A minister who never lived next door to someone from your neighborhood. Never shared a college class with anyone you know. Never wrote a Facebook comment or tweeted anything. A minister who is a clean slate—purely based on the specifications provided. Perhaps then people would agree on someone and allow him to carry out his blessed work, God willing.
The funniest comment I’ve read in response to the online campaign was something shared by teacher Wagdi Al-Kurdi, quoting engineer Othman Mirghani:
“If Islam were to descend upon Sudan, the Sudanese would dig up an old video of Caliph Omar Ibn Al-Khattab eating an idol made of dates.”
