I wrote the first part of this story awhile back...below is part 2.
Dhaqane is the dream of many Somali women; educated, wealthy by somali standards, traditionalist and charming. He loves everything somali and strongly believes that the somali culture is becoming extinct. Wahabism and its focus on everything Arabic and crazy other culture which have permeated somali culture drive him crazy.
He keeps a dozen or so macaawis. He still uses cadey as a toothbrush and listens to Somali music. He views these artefacts as a therapy to stay sane and connected.
But Dhaqane is also a nightmare to many others; arrogant, not religious (he never passed juz cama- tabaarak iska dhaafe and if he prays 5 salaads in a raw that is an achievemen) and harbours controversial opinions.
He just passed the 40 mark if we are to believe the geeljire calendar of gu’, deyr, xagaa, jilaal. He was born in deyr barwaaqo when the rains fell 2 months non-stop.
He is the son of a geeljire nomad and loves everything about the camel. In fact, quite recently he has funded a study of camel Mastitis in lactating dromedarius camels in the NFD. He has also recently bought 100 camels and strongly believes that aaqiro nimaan geel lahayn inuusan janna galeeynin.
Dhaqane lives in Wisbaden, the capital of Hessen, Germany where he works as a consultant in bio-medics. He has limited interactions with Somalis online and offline.
His view on Somalis has been shaped by his years in Africa. His time in high school in a prestigious boarding school in Kenya, medical school and his visit to Somalia which was then a vibrant and dynamic nation. For the first time, in his lifetime, the visit to Somalia gave him a sense of pride. He visited as many Somali towns as possible during the 6th month he was in Somalia; from Zeylac in the North to Kismayo in the South.
Life in Germany is great. Dhaqane has everything; friends, a good job, an excellent social life which involves babes, booze and boobs. But he decided to call this lifestyle a day a few years ago. It is time to rebrand himself from gaalo vices to a somali traditionalist. Back to basics. Back to xaawaleys, preferably with a garees or guntino. But the dirac could also do the trick. But never a tent.
Dhaqane soon established a fetish; chubby syndrome. The jury is still out as to why Dhaqane who has everything in life would be attracted to a chubby woman. One plausible theory is that in skinny country where he grew up the motto (norm) was the fatter the better. In line with the facts of the theory of evolution, natural selection meant that the somali – perhaps as a result of the harsh environment- are thin. The scrawny diet of cad iyo caano meant that Allah bestowed men with chicken breasts, spaghetti legs and a sparrow’s forehead. The exception of course is the Somalis who lived in coastal towns and those who farmed. However, the dominating paradigm is that these Somalis are not true Somalis. They eat fish after all and graze like animals, two issues that are viewed as not fitting a somali.
Evolution is long-term process with incremental changes. As chronicled by Dr. Basra ina Basbaas, the cicero of Regency England, remarked once on Somalinet; even the oviducts and the muscular and tubular part of the female genital tract (V) and the male equivalent of the Somalis have been shaped by the forces of genetic flows. To quote Dr. Basbas, it is the designated space that determines the size of the stick.
The last few decades has brought changes within the Somalis. There is an anagenesis going on. The somali “race” has evolved from being characterised as a skinny to an obese one. Mainly in the diaspora, it seems that the thinner the better.
To Dhaqane though, old habits- or preferences die hardly. In his mind, the perfect Somali woman is the shabby one. The xusul baruurs are t Allah’s creation – and not only blessed by the prophet, but there is something special about them.
He calls them gold mines needed to be mined. He views xusul baruurs as the only ones who can tame him back to the terrain of Somalistan.
But that was before he met Dhaqan, the woman who changed his mind. The woman who is responsible for Dhaqane’s newly found fetish; the dheeylo syndrome.
Dhaqan is in many ways a traditional somali woman; comes across as an ambitious woman, loves everything somali including geeljire culture. She was born in Arabsiyo, cirka 40 KM NW of Hargeisa on the way to the intellectual hub of Somalia, Awdal. It lies in the fertile belt close to Gebiley. She came from a pious family- a kind of dhal awliyo family who farmed peas and beans.
The closest she came to a camel was when she went on a holiday to Gebiley after living in the UK for more than 15 years. When the camel approached her, she ran away screaming like a baby. In this context, she is very different from Dhaqan.
She was the opposite of Xusul baruur. The gym is her harem and one could mistake for the dark lady in the spice girls.
Dhaqan is also very different from Dhaqane. She is very religious to the border of extremism. She is not only hijabified but sometimes she wore the gembis and the cabaaya.
To her hell awaits people like Dhaqane.
But as they say, opposites are attracted to each other.
Dhaqane was in London. The city that Dhaqan called home for the decades. He was on a business trip to attend a conference on global healthcare. London is almost his home town. It was here that he did his medical studies and it was here that he had met his first amoore, Amanda, a Jamacian beauty.
On this particular day, Dhaqane decided to take a break from the conference and visit friends in Willesden Green, in NW London. He took bus number 18 from Baker Street and planned to have a cup of coffee in Harlesden high street before taking bus 266 to Willesden. It was in Harlesden that he met Amanda decades ago and he wanted to see the places where they went.
Harlesden has changed. During Dhaqane’s young years, it was a Jamaican area. The Stonebridge area as well as Church street was a no go area. Things have changed. Both Stonebridge and Church estate have been turned into livable areas. There are some somali business and there is a sense of security.
Dhaqane descended from the bus, lit a cigarette and started walking. Coming towards him is a somali woman- between 20-30, and wearing xijaab. Usually, Dhaqane is not the derbi salaan kind of guy, but there was something special about the lady approaching him. She had a comely figure which was stem-thin judging by what was under the dress. She seems to be blessed with a curvilinear waist and a saffron tint to her complexion. A kind of dhex-yareey which was the norm in geeljire country.
Their eyes met .
Dhaqane noticed her crescent shaped eyebrows inclined slightly, the suuro, as he started staring at the beauty before him. He was in xishood mood and did not want to be caught. However, he noticed that her languid eyelashes of velvet-black blinked once slowly, as if to invite him over for a chat.
As he came closer to her, he noticed that she has luminous, heavenly-white teeth. Although she was hijabified, he imagined that her hair was a glorious tumble of star beam-gold. Her brown eyes, her small waist set his heart a thump. Her oxbow lips positively drooled with goodness. Oh! Those sugar candy-sweet lips, her elegant personality judging the way she walked majestically, all mesmerized him.
Dhaqane was shivering and felt like a 16 year old.
Inadeer, soo nabad ma aha? He asked with a smile.
Nabad adeer she replied.
Inadeer, adeer ma ihi.
Raali ahaaw aboow she said…
To be continued…
Part II.
Dhaqane was an expert on the noble art shukansi- old school shukaansi- but things have changed. His shukaansi with somali women the last few years was very limited to a few xusul baruurs. The shukaansi ritual followed a path which both the xusul baruurs and Dhaqane knew quite well.
To Dhaqane, Shukaansi is based on kaftan, xifaale and other noble modes and sanctioned by dhaqan. But this was very different; although Dhaqan was not a dhoocil, she probably believes she is one. She wore white sports shoes which is a sign of dhocolism. In addition, she wore a big xijaab and was relatively very thin. A put off .
But Dhaqane knew that behind the veil there is always another woman. The xijaab and veil have become a societal norm – a fashion statement that satisfies others. It is “soo baxay”. Mädchen für alles. The village sharmuuto who is hated by everyone but provides some comfort and thus appreciated. It has nothing to do with piousness; what will the pious do in Carli Gaalo? Taking Ceyr money and cursing the hands that feed him/her. That does not converge with the piousness view but has become the norm of a nation that is led by thugs. A nation that has lost its moral compass. A nation whose religious, political leaders as well as scholars are on a train to self-destruction. A nation of conformity where dissenting voice is labelled as gaalo voice. The nation of the morally decayed.
Imagine if she only wore a guntiino? Or even a garees? The Alindhi in particular? Dhaqane said to himself. Even the dirac would have done the trick.
But it was there. The suuro. It could be seen behind the veil. The kind of suuro which portrays the message “take me into your arms” or more recently “ I am in the market for even a quickie”.
Inadeer, ma Landhan baad degantahay? Asked Dhaqane.
Usually, Dhaqane does not use “baad degantahay” . In his part of the world the question is; Ma landhan aad/ayaad degantahay. But it is new times.
Haa huuno answered Dhaqan.
“Huuno” by a xusul baruur usually wetted Dhaqane’s pants but since a few years ago, he dreaded it. In addition, the lady infront of him was all but a xusul baruur. She was a dheeylo.
Dhaqane was rolling and reeling in Frankfurt Am Maine when he got a phone call from the Hospital zum heiligen Geist – the Krankenhaus where a nurse informed him that an old uncle of his has been admitted.
He rushed to the hospital and met his uncle in intensive care. Uncle Raage was a fierce warlord at large, turned politician (held various ministerial posts) and leader of the tolka. He became the spokesman of the tolka. Qaad consumption combined with putting his wadaan in every ceel had taken their toll on his health. Hepatices, Gonorrhea, Syphilis and all kinds of venereal diseases had paid him a visit. The main reason he was airlifted from Xamar was because of cirrhosis of the liver. He was vomiting parts of his liver.
When Dhaqane came to the hospital, he was met by the who is who of the tolka from Deutschland. Someone posted the information about Raage on Facebook and after the habitual “ilaahey ha caafiyo” and “amin” they decided to go to the hospital.
At the hospital was also this “huuno” shanting concubine of his. She overused the word “Huuno”. Everyone was Huuno and every sentence started with “Huuno”.
Uncle Raage was officially married to eedo “ Deeqa” his bahyar/minyar who was given to him by the tolka in his capacity as a savior and voice of the tolka. There was an age gap. He could be her father but who cared?. Being married to the leader of the tolka brought her fame, dahab and fringe benefits. She added to the tolka count by producing 3 kids within 3 years of her marriage. She tolerated uncle Raage’s relationship with concubines, paramours and mistress and what have you.
The bahweyn, eedo Raaxo, a woman of another tolka by her own right (she was from a very well-known family), was living overseas with the grown up kids. She had accepted the fact that uncle Raage would never come to Canada and live with her and the kids. She visited him in Somalia a few times but finally she succumbed and accepted that she had passed the best before date.
The huuno chanting courtesan greeted him with a sentence that contained at least 5 huunos. But the straw that broke the camel's back came when she asked him to buy him some ”laba mijimood”. Huuno laba mijimood maad ii so qabini? She had asked. A few hours later uncle Raage had died. Dhaqane couldn’t stomach that she had the guts for a marduuf of miraa on the deathbed of uncle Raage.
That made him dread the word “huuno”. Everytime he hears the word “huuno” uttered he goes into panic then ire mood.
“Huuno” ha I dhihin inaadeer. Waan necebanahay kelmedaasi said Dhaqane.
Maxaa dhacay huu—sorry Walaal? Dhaqan asked
Waa sheeko dheer inaadeer.
Curiosity kills the cat. A textbook example of how to initiate sheeko.
By the way, my name is Dhaqane said Dhaqane while putting forward his right hand to greet her.
She greeted him. Gacan salaan. She pulled her hand back quickly noticing that she has broken a social code.
Dhaqane knew that this as they say in Scandnavia “spel för gallerian”. That Dhaqan was a victim of societal credo.
My name is Dhaqan but I am also called Iyaah.
What a name!!! I am Dhaqane. Do you mind to have a cup of coffee with me? Asked Dhaqane spontaneously.
No. I don’t mind aboowe.
Ok na keen inadeer.
And off they went to the Costa coffee house.
As soon as they ordered and sat in a corner of the coffee house, Dhaqan in cockney accent and smiling broadly asked:
So, who is this prince charming?
“I am not a prince, I am a simpleton” replied Dhaqane in a German accent, adding “ but I want to know more about the qalanjo sitting in front of me”.
To be continued…
I'll read it after afur IA
)
