FROM A THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD CLERK TO A STATESMAN: REMEMBERING A MENTOR, 11 YEARS ON
It has been eleven years since Late Hon. Uz. Abdulla Hameed left this world.
Last year, on the tenth anniversary of his passing, I wrote about the faith he placed in me when I had lost faith in myself. This year, I found myself reflecting on the extraordinary journey of the man who gave me that second chance.
Born on 31 March 1939, Abdulla Hameed entered government service at just thirteen, beginning as a clerk at the communications office. By nineteen, he had become the Atoll Chief of Lhaviyani Atoll.
That was the beginning of a remarkable life in public service.
Over the decades, he served as a Member of Parliament, Cabinet Minister and Speaker of the People’s Majlis. He contributed to the development of Hulhulé Airport, the atolls and the education sector. He was also a respected literary figure who cared deeply about the Dhivehi language, our history and our culture.
He was eventually conferred the Order of Distinguished Rule of Izzuddeen.
Yet, titles and honours only tell us how high a man rose. They do not tell us how many people he lifted along the way.
I was one of them.
When I entered the film industry, I quickly became disillusioned. By the time I was transferred to the Ministry of Atolls Administration, where Hon. Abdulla Hameed served as minister, I was frustrated and almost ready to walk away from storytelling.
He must have seen something in me that I could no longer see in myself.
The TVM Office Drama Competition was one of the most anticipated events of Ramadan. The ministry’s previous entry had received harsh criticism. He could have chosen someone more experienced—or avoided taking the risk altogether.
Instead, he chose me.
He entrusted me with producing the ministry’s next drama, gave me complete creative freedom and instructed everyone to offer their full support.
He did not stand over my shoulder.
He stood behind me.
That year, the Ministry of Atolls won Best Drama and Best Actress. Over the next four years, we won twelve awards, including two more Best Drama titles.
But what I gained cannot be measured in trophies.
I experimented. I failed. I learned. I found my voice and, most importantly, my way back to storytelling.
Throughout those productions, he made sure my cast and crew were treated with dignity. To him, they were not merely government employees appearing in an office drama. They were artists, and he made them feel like artists.
During one celebration, he said something I have carried ever since:
“He is a gem that Atolls has.”
Perhaps he never realised what those words meant to me. One sentence, spoken with faith, became a lifeline for a young man drowning in doubt.
Whenever rejection becomes louder than hope, or I begin to question whether I still have anything meaningful to offer, I remember the man who saw a gem where I saw only broken stone.
On 18 August 2015, Hon. Abdulla Hameed passed away at the age of seventy-six. His body returned home draped in the national flag, and the country observed three days of official mourning.
The Maldives buried a statesman.
I lost a mentor.
Eleven years later, history remembers his journey from a thirteen-year-old clerk to the Speaker’s chair. I remember the man who trusted a discouraged young writer with a drama and opened a door when I believed every door had closed.
Perhaps that is the truest measure of a life—not merely how far someone rises, but how many others rise because of him.
Eleven years on, I am still writing. Every story, every character and every moment I have placed on a screen carries somewhere within it a small part of the faith he once placed in me.
His titles belong to history.
His words belong to my life.
May Allah fill his grave with light and grant him the highest place in Jannah.
Aameen.
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