23 March 2026 

Welcome, dear soul, to the Alchemy Scrolls…

Though the scrolls were created as a sacred remembrance for my readers, I often find myself stripping bare and writing as though I am journaling. Perhaps my remembrance is the spark that ignites your own remembrance, and perhaps I write the scrolls with this in mind.

But the embers of my healing journey sometimes need to be rekindled, reawakened so that the light may serve as a hopeful glint for those who find themselves in their darkest hours. Sometimes, the healer also needs to be healed, and needs to be held when burnout crashes in as a brutal reminder that she, too, is human.

I found myself facing that reminder over the past two weeks; first as a bout of illness, and then the reemergence of an entity I wasn’t planning on dealing with at all…

As many of you may know, Muslims around the world were observing the fasting month (Ramadhan), and at the end of the fasting period, which spans either twenty-nine or thirty days, based on the moon cycle, a festivity is celebrated, called “Eid”. Eid is the end of the fasting month, the beginning of a new lunar month, and is held in celebration of new beginnings, gratitude, renewed and restored faith, and the calling in of new abundance upon the new moon cycle. And since I was born into a Muslim family, naturally, those family members celebrate this glorious day.

Of course, this festive day - Eid - for me, had always become the perfect playground to be turned into a battlefield, where massacres of self-esteem take place, condemnation of autonomy is enforced by the supposed rulers, and the prime opportunity to exercise the authority of “elders” is the only justification they have for their narcissistic behavior.

Count me out, will ya?

While I do not intend to berate this auspicious day in any way, I simply cannot ignore a fundamental aspect of my upbringing, which ensured that I didn’t enjoy the festivities as I should have. A day that should have taken me closer to my creator and blossomed in essence with the culmination of the fasting month and all it is meant to achieve for one’s spirituality and faith, became a day I detested.

And all because I was, and probably still am, the “black sheep” of the family. Not that I have any qualms with being considered this way. For a long time, I clung to the wool that kept me hidden, this black cloak of unworthiness and self-depreciation being the only armor I had against my perpetrators, because all I did was hide. Of course, while I flaunted the extravagant façade of a perfect family to further hide the wounds that couldn’t be seen on the flesh, masquerading as the perfect housewife for many years, I was able to plaster a smile on my face that betrayed what was going on inside.

But then I survived, escaped the beast, and was back on my feet in no time. Two Eids passed, and that’s when my son and I forged our own path, rewriting the mundane, performative parts of the auspicious day, and creating something filled with love, doing things we both enjoyed doing, even if it did feel lonely at times.

Cue the year 2025, and our relatives called upon us to join them in a new city, citing that we’d been living out in Johannesburg for so long, and it would ease the pressure on a single mum to be around family who offered support, both for my son and me.

Naturally, I gravitated towards this offering, having been on my own for quite some time and craving the village and community that’s needed to bring up a child. During my healing journey, I discovered the power of forgiveness (which, on its own, deserves a scroll), and I had forgiven the misconduct and misgivings of all those who ever hurt me.

Especially my mother.

So, we changed cities and relocated somewhere close enough for a quick commute to her hometown and the city we’re living in now, while our relatives live a few streets away from us.

What I hadn’t been counting on was the revelation that some families refuse to see the error in their ways, in the things they do, or the things they say. The lack of accountability is nauseating, and I refuse to have to put up with childish behavior from grown adults.

Over the years, I’ve developed an intolerance for bullshit, and this came at a price that often seems like a misfortune to the naked eye. But it was only the illusion of “societal norms” that dropped for me, allowing me to see right through the harmful patterns and conditioning that have been deeply ingrained into our family structure for many generations.

I had shed the metaphorical sheep’s cloak through my healing journey. I emerged as the wolf in hiding, ready to claw the throats of generational curses and gouge out the eyes of the old structures and paradigms that dictated our family dynamics. I broke the cycle, and I changed…

… Only to face the daunting realization that the people around me did not change.

I was looking through a completely different lens, while my relatives refused to look into the lens at all.

What was most unsettling, for me, was that my mother did not change, no matter how much I forgave her, and no matter how much compassion and understanding I showed her. She was set in the ways she was taught, stuck in the patterns I had since broken out of, patterns I refuse to hurt my child with.

I began seeing it all - more clearly than I thought I was when I wasn’t so closely linked to them. Being around them, interacting, having conversations that soon turned into temper tantrums thrown by grown adults, I realized that I was doing myself a disservice by trying to hang onto relationships that no longer served me. In my quest to maintain the peace I worked very hard for, I simply cannot disrupt that peace by staying in spaces that want to drag me down.

While I cannot fault these blood relatives for their inability to be better human beings, I have come to a clear conclusion that the Universe orchestrated this relocation not for them, but for me to see clearly how toxic the patterns I’d grown up with are. And how, breaking the cycle does not mitigate the abuse that still occurs in these toxic dynamics.

It was never my duty to try to change anyone or make them see that they can be better. It was only ever my responsibility to break the cycles for myself and for the generations to come after me, starting with my son.

If that means removing myself completely from toxic family circles, this is something I must accept. And with every phone call spoken in raised tones, or conniving behavior trying to turn my own son against me, I have come to the point where I am ready to say goodbye to my mother for good.

A Letter To My Mother

Thank you for giving birth to me

That’s all I can be truly grateful for

I’ve never known the warmth of a mother’s love

‘Cause you never failed to remind me that being a mother was the biggest chore

For you, the woman who despised my very existence

As a young girl, I yearned for your love

But I was only met with resistance

You criticised the shade of my flesh

Pounded a fist on my head when I was a mess

I was just a little girl who loved playing outside

But you hated to see me happy, so you denied

That I was a human, full of wonders and dreams

All you did was try to push on me, lightening creams

Compared me to every one of my friends

Told me I was an embarrassment in your family on the weekends

I could never do anything right in your eyes like the others

All because you didn’t know how to be a mother

You picked on my style, rolled your eyes when I cried

You never saw the little girl who slowly died

Starved of a mother’s acceptance, it was your hatred I faced

But the things you went through, I wasn’t to blame in the first place

When Daddy died, you wouldn’t let me cry

Told me to wipe my eyes and put on a smile

I wasn’t allowed to grieve his death

Because your indifference was all I met

If that wasn’t enough, you tried to make me palatable

Plucked my brows and changed my hair colour when the colour of my skin wasn’t acceptable

You practically sold me off to your newest addition

Pretending to be the perfect wife was your only mission

You knew he was abusing me, and you turned the other cheek

To everyone, the perfect housewife, but as a mother, you were weak

Don’t get me wrong, I know you knew no better

I don’t care for your apology, that’s not the reason for this letter

I must thank you for bringing me into this world

Through you, most of my life lessons unfurled

You set the tone for everything I wish to never be

And since I’ve released you, I am finally free

Here’s to compassion, the part of me that wishes you well

But now that I have grown up, it’s my story to tell

I am not responsible for the way you might feel

I can only send you love, and pray that you heal.

~*~

~ Yumna Vally

The realisation that I needed to close this chapter for good came when my body crashed as a direct signal that her impending visit over the auspicious period of Eid was my soul’s resistance to unhealthy relationships. She confirmed this with a message sent to chastise me, then by using my son to try to cause unrest in our relationship.

If I’m not a bad daughter, then I am a bad mother, a bad niece, a bad human for even thinking about living my life with my peace and happiness at the forefront - according to her.

The thing is, I have certainly found my tribe of souls who love me unconditionally, and I have since realized that the Universe orchestrated this big relocation for the expansion of my healing, not to throw me back into still waters of toxic patterns.

I am content, I am loved, and I am able to love fiercely the ones who truly deserve my love. Along my journey, I have met many souls who stood in as mother, sister, friend, protector, lover, and nurturer along the way, and for them, I am grateful.

I have no regrets that my son and I spent our Eid celebrating with our soul family - found-family who doesn’t need blood relations to give us love without trying to control or demand that we follow in toxic footsteps. In fact, I will always choose to be amongst people who are good for my soul, because I have fought too hard to abandon myself to keep the peace amongst people who wouldn’t bat an eyelid for mine. It is my soul family, after all, who cradle me in moments when I need to be held, and for that, I am grateful, for I lack nothing at all.

In no time, I am back on my feet, stronger than ever, ready to come back to these shelves and uncover more scrolls with my collective, so we may all find the sacred remembrance of the things that do make us whole, even if it looks a little different to others.

While I have spent this scroll rambling about a bump in the road in my journey, I want this scroll to act as a reminder that there will always be hurdles along the way, but when you can’t overcome them alone, there are souls that exist who will gladly pick you up and carry you over those bumps in the road, without asking anything in return.

Cherish those people, and remember that you are not alone. If healing and peace means breaking ties with toxic people, let this be your reminder that on the other side, there is a genuine connection awaiting you.

You just have to be open to receiving the blessings and abundance of love out there in the world. It might come from somewhere you least expect it.

Sending you love and a warm embrace, from the place you least expect it from,

Raaia.