Asmara Massawa Road, Eritrea. Credit: Eric Lafforgue, flickr.com (2013)

It’s not very often that we get to have the hero that we deserve. Certainly not from our ghettos. It’s not very often that the black community comes together to acknowledge the contributions made by one of its dissenting free thinkers- beyond each other’s origins, cities, clans, cliques, covens. There’s always been something we’d have to point our fingers to. Who knew that one tragic death would be a healing for so many of these divisions between us? That even in the wake of so many numbing tragedies around us, there are still some things that we hold sacred. Disbelief, that someone could dare kill a community unifier. Incredulity, that someone could dare hate a beacon of light and positivity amongst us. Anger, that a brother could at the turn of a conversation snuff the life of a comrade at will, as if he had anything to do with its making! With hardly any opposition around. That we value our lives more than our loved ones’. That we would run from each other at the sight of danger, that we would hide and comfortably watch as our nearest and dearest takes it again and again and again. That we wouldn’t dare risk our lives for each other.

It’s so easy to criticize and think you’d be better behind the comfort of your keyboard –  of course I will, I assure myself, surely I wouldn’t be able to hide as I watch a man getting killed before me? That my value is as much as the value of my brother’s and my bravery or cowardice is as much as my brother’s. That I am the sum of the energy I give and receive. And so whatever good, whatever evil, whatever bravery, whatever treachery, I must be prepared to get in turn. But you don’t really know, you see, if you haven’t been tested.

It’s so rare that the arc of morality would bend towards justice these days, so I understand why there’s been this satisfying sense of finally, the right response! That yes, this outpouring of grief and support following the tragic passing of Hussle is justified. That we acknowledge that very few of us would make it out of an underprivileged hometown and go back to lift our peers. And not just lift them, but entrench ourselves in those societies. That it’s honourable and worth celebrating, knowing very well what awaits whoever goes back. It is human nature to be envious of our betters. We hate them, but we want to be them. We envy them, and yet we show up at their’s. We wish them failure, hoping their failure would be our success. How distorted our positions!

And however belated our discoveries, we must surely find them all unquestionably inspiring. That he went back home, and stayed months, to learn about his roots; that he’d opened stores around the streets that once brought so much pain; that he’d hired constituents who would struggle to be employed otherwise. It’s the epitome of what we aspire to be. Protectors, defenders, up lifters of our communities. I’m glad that we’re making a big deal out of this, for once! He is us. He’s the brave that we seek when we want to revisit our difficult childhoods; he’s the relentlessly curious when we wish to fill the gaps of our heritage; the moral bootstrapper – visible, present, accessible, to remind us that we can do better. That we can all make it out. That his success does not preclude your success. And there’s cosmic joy resulting from service to humanity, however envious, however ungrateful.

To die upon what we believe in, it’s not guaranteed, you see. Tamping down feuds; bringing brothers together; helping felons integrate into society; employing the under-served in our communities; fundraising for diverse causes, with nary a thought as to race, religion, colour, ethnicity. To die upon your principles, upon the straight path, upon The Embodiment of Truth, steadfast, so honestly, so bravely, in your very last moments, it’s the ultimate dream you know. It’s my ultimate dream.

And whatever your personal views of his value to society, there are lessons to be learnt for all of us. To be intolerant to injustices around us. That our lives are infinitely more valuable than any worldly possessions we hold dear, certainly not buildings however distinguished! And that our resources must attest to this. That our lives are equally valuable, whether an affluent celebrity from LA, or an impoverished Christian from Sri Lanka. That to cling to your path, no matter what, is admirable. Sticking to your craft for ages, believing that your big break is just around the corner, ploughing along, year in year out. That there are infinite rewards to this, if we but exercised patience. The best of ourselves or nothing, as a friend recently once told me.

Life is invariably a difficult exam and you can’t look to model your own to others around you, everyone’s got a different question to answer, you see. It’s a marathon, constituting different legs, and different journeys in our paths to greatness. That greatness lives amongst us everyday. And within us all, if we chose to access it. And that if we created an environment that inspires us daily, there can be no cage to our dreams. These were his lessons. To be the best or nothing, my darlings. Nothing but love. Much respect. The marathon continues.