Fiidow thought that he had passed the best before date. He was no longer the dark handsome man with an afro hairstyle that appealed to the hearts of Xaawaleys. He had it seen it all; the qalanjo who above all wanted to be wedded because of societal onuses; the xusul baruur who wanted to have him by her side to mock her friends; the hijabi who thought that the road to heaven lay in his qulub (she thought that if he could make him a wadaad Allah will send her to paradise); the dahab and dirac chasing cajuuso who wanted him because of his financial standing.
In his heydays, he was a globetrotter. He travelled the world and was culturally learned. He led a bachelor life and never really cared about the future. Who does? He had it all; money, looks and power.
Fiidow was detached from Somalia. He rarely met them and when he did, they never shared more than “sidee la yahay?”. To him the cajuuso, the qalanjo, the gumeeys and the xusul baruurs were more interested in his pockets than his intellect.
To the pervasive “maad guursatid?” from his folks back home in Africa, he always had an answer; Hadduu Ilaahey idmo. Mention those words and you are off the hook. Who will afterall question the will of Allah.
His mom, Kutubey, gave up before she passed away; she had lots of qalanjos from Carli Somali who she identified as possible brides to her son. Every woman in Carli Somalia who knew Kutubey and a daughter knew that she had an asset; Fiidow.
Mamma Kutubey had a vision which never came true; Fidow will come to the village one day and will fulfil her wish. She will assemble all the xaawaleys of the village to sing the buraanbur; she will ask the macalin dugsi to read 7 marro. The pinnacle of the event will be the wedding to the daughter of the local macalin who she identified as naag edeb leh, reer fiicana ka dhalatay as the saying went.
But that did not materialise and mamam Kutubeey succumbed to death before she witnessed the big day. Her day.. According to some cynics, Fiidow’s constant “nos” to her suggestions on marriage had a major role in her death.
He dated non somali women. Too many to be stated.
But that was history. That was a decade or so ago. That was yesteryears when being a man was enough to land you a lay. Those were the years when he was in his prime.
Today Fiidow is bald and has a beer belly that stretches miles and that touched the ground before his forehead when he occassionally prays. Yes, he became a good muslim and had said goodbye to vice; he drinks tahliil instead of “on the rocks”. His globetrotting years are behind him as. He is a shadow of his past. Spageti legs and chicken breast. He has some material assets but that does not matter. He has an empty heart. Povero emotionally.
When he ventures outside the conformt of his apartment in this fashionable district in this western metropolitan city, all he meets are cajuuso ilkihii daadiyey, dhocols and the occasional gumeys. Ironically, the cajuusos were the ones who a few years ago were having hot pants for him. He always asks himself how come women age so fast? War dumarku waa sida nyanyo he will remark at times.
Fiidow came to the realisation that he will never meet a somali woman to marry. He was too old for the qalanjos, too grumpy for the gumeeys and too young for the cajuusos. He will probably travel to Somalia and wed an unsuspecting qalanjo who will be attracted by his charm from yesterday, his stories about the qurbaha or simply a rich future. The thought of going to Somalia almost killed him. He has not been to Somalia for many years. Things have changed in Somalia.
Another alternative that kept him busy was to travel to South East Asia. He will wed a muslimah. But that too had drawbacks; cultural as well as moral.
Then one day the unthinkable happened. He met Ambiyo at the weirdest of all places, Somalinet.....
Sheekade Aishah?
