They killed my friend. They stabbed at him and slashed at him till he lay in the stairwell of his home, bleeding to death.
I have been struggling to find words. I have been wanting to tell people who he was to me, because some people have been painting him in a bad light. I'll tell you right now, He was just like you. He was just like me.
He was a guy, figuring out life, like the rest of us, but he always stood by his principles. He pointed out hypocrisy. He wrote satire, he fixed peoples tech problems, He was human, but because he had a voice, they wanted him gone. So they killed him. There are people who will remember the man who stood for the rights of others, and they should. He was a great person. As for me, more than anything, I'll miss my friend.
I was stuck at a very awkward social event that I was obligated to attend. There were very few people I knew there, and those who I did know couldn't be bothered with my problems or my very obvious anxiety. Yaamyn came with Moyameehaa, and they both had a quick bite to eat and took me away from that place to a coffee, where we spent a couple of hours just talking and laughing. They're both gone now. Moyameehaa was abducted from near his house, never to be seen again, and Yaamyn, killed in his home. I thanked them for saving me that night. They just brushed it off like it was nothing, I told them I'd do the same for them when the time came, and we had a gentlemen's agreement that I'd come save them from an awkward social situation, no questions asked. I never got to repay that debt.
Yaamyn was threatened every now and then, which he'd report, I don't think anything was investigated or whatever, because the cops probably had more important things to do, people to intimidate, bribes to be had, you know the deal. I would volunteer to drop him home if we hang out. We both walked, so we killed the time by conversing. I had so much fun talking to him on the way home. We'd be dodging traffic and parked vehicles and shimmying around pedestrians while talking about movies, music and art and books. One thing we both had in common is that he doesn't like small talk as well. We never made small talk. Small talk was for very distant cousins or friend of an acquaintance. I introduced him to new music, he told me about books I should read. He told me of new and exciting tech which I barely understood. I told him of some really good movies I thought he'd enjoy.
Once he was telling me and a bunch of friends about one of his favorite cafe's. "It's such a great cafe'! I go there all the time. I mean, if you go there you'll come out smelling like an ash tray, and it's kind of loud, and I got food poisoning there, but only twice.", this was basically what he said, and I was in stitches at the worst sales pitch I've ever heard. I told him I'd turn that bit into a sketch someday, but I'm not sure anymore.
One night he came and watched Maldivian Idol with us, and did not enjoy it at all, but we still managed to have a lot of laughs. I don't enjoy the program, I just watch to make fun of the thing and yell at the TV. Yaamyn doesn't yell at anything. He's soft spoken.
I have many memories of him. I will not share them all, because I want to keep some for myself. He lived a good life, he was kind to others and he touched a lot of people's lives and made a positive impact on a lot of them. Yet there are people who celebrate his death. These people are the lowest of scum. I don't care what they think they are, but they're the future residents of hell.
They killed my friend thinking they could silence him and in turn silence anyone who thinks they can raise their voices against tyranny. They are wrong. I refuse to be silent. I will use the one thing they're most afraid of. I'll use my voice. For Yaamyn. My friend.
He'll be laughing his ass off in heaven while his killers will burn in hell.
