Two years ago, a major incident occurred that altered my life completely. It all started one morning at my home in Abu Dhabi when my younger siblings told me that my older brother, Ismail, had been in a major accident in Dubai, where he was staying for the weekend. My parents, who had received a phone call from the police early that morning, were on their way to Rashid Hospital to see him along with my eldest brother Mohammed, who was more familiar with Dubai's roads.
In between calls and texts, I could not know how bad the situation really was. I was never an optimist, but a part of me was wishing everything was OK, and I desperately wanted to believe it.
Hours later, my eldest brother gave me a call from Dubai, and in between weepy sobs he said: "Sis, we are now six instead of seven," and immediately hung up the phone without giving me a chance to speak.
It took me a while to understand the full implication of what he said. We were a family of seven brothers and sisters. Slowly, I realised that he was telling me my brother was dead. It was hard for me to accept, and it was even harder for me to keep it in. Minutes after that, mourners were rushing into our house, and I was the only one at home to receive both the men and women. Even though I objected, and wasn't ready yet to mourn my brother, my uncle insisted on me accepting these people into our home.
I desperately needed someone to be with me, and even though our house was filled with family and friends, I felt utterly alone. My younger siblings - similarly distraught - were now my responsibility. And I was anxious for my parents. The news of my brother was so terrible, they wouldn't be able to deal with weepy children.
After I had made tea and coffee, and brought in plates filled with fruits and dates (as per the mourners' request), my cousin came to me and asked me where my parents were and if I knew when they were coming back. Since I didn't know, I called each but got no answer. I also called Mohammed but didn't get a reply either. So for some reason I decided to call my brother Ismail. A part of me wished he would pick up and be OK, and another part dreaded the reply I was sure to get, that he was indeed dead.
To my shock, he answered and yelled at me for calling him since he was asleep and clearly in a bad mood for having been woken up so abruptly. All I could say was: "As soon as I see you, you are dead." He hung up and left me filled with rage because of what he had put me and my family through. Right at that moment, I did actually want to kill him.
I couldn't wait to get away from all the mourners, and so asked them to leave. I started by saying: "He's not dead, just go home." Female relatives, their faces red from all the crying, now started wailing with excitement. The men were thankful and relieved for a moment, and then started making phone calls to give others the news that my brother was fine.
The mourners left as soon as they realised that my "dead" brother was actually alive. My cousins were allowed to stay and keep my siblings and me company. When all the mourners had gone, I shut the doors and stayed inside waiting for my elder sisters and a call from my parents.
What had really happened was that while my brother was asleep in the apartment he rented as a getaway in Dubai, his friend "borrowed" his brand new Mustang GT and took it for a ride. This friend didn't have a driver's licence and couldn't handle the powerful sports car. He drifted off Al Barsha Road, hit a six-wheel truck and the car exploded.
It was the friend who was the one who was dead.
Since he looked a lot like my brother, and Ismail's identification cards were found in the car, the police assumed it was him. My parents and older brother saw the body in the morgue, but I think they were too distraught to realise that it was not my brother.
The friend's family, who also lived in Abu Dhabi, were not contacted until later that day as they still thought the dead body was Ismail's. Like any other family who got such bad news, they did not take it very well. After the police interrogated Ismail on his whereabouts the previous night, he was taken to the morgue to identify the body.
Even though my family was trying to calm him down, he was still confused, horrified and shocked. He had just identified a body that was supposed to be his.
In the evening, my parents came back with my "dead" brother and we had a giant reunion as a family. My sister hugged him crying, telling him he put us through a lot in one day.
My older sister, who was putting her son to sleep, stood up to hug him and was silently crying. When he came over to me, I didn't want to look at him. He hugged me hard and that's when I started bawling like a child. "Please don't cry sis, I'm right here and I'm not leaving. Please, stop crying," he said. I let go of him still crying, and told him with a chuckle that he needed a shower, as he smelled of cigarette smoke and sweat. Later on, a goat was slaughtered as a way of preventing the evil eye.
Having gone through such a terrifying experience, I now truly value life so much more. At night, I wonder what it would have been like to have lost my brother and immediately try to shake that thought away. And since the number of deaths in car accidents in the UAE is alarming, I can't help but think how other families are dealing with such traumatic incidents.
I cannot speak for my family, but I am sure they are all just as thankful as I am that my brother is safe. As I am thankful to have my family unharmed, I sincerely wish everyone else's to be just as safe and protected.
At the end of that year, we actually had a death in our family. Even though it saddened me to lose my grandmother, and it still saddens me to this day, I have learned to accept what has happened.
Before such incidents occurred, I questioned everything. I wanted to know why it happened to me and not others. Coming so close to losing my brother has made me stronger, because it gave me a chance to truly have faith in God, and believe that many incidents happen in our lives for a reason. It also made me realise that life goes on, no matter how hard it may be.
Ayesha Al Khoori is a Zayed University student in converged media.
