Homecoming: Communist Falxado from Ganaane

[Lamagoodle]

The Turkish Airlines flight ( flight TK 686/TK 687) from Istanbul to Aden Adde airport, Muqdisho, had just entered the Eritrean airspace and in less than 25 minutes it will be in Somali territory. It will land in Djibouti! A Somali territory where the majority of the citizens speak Somali and worship the same God.

The majority of the passengers on flight TK 686/687 are Somalis. You could also spot a few NGO workers from Turkey and other nations who are on their way to provide much needed help to Somalis in Somalia.

It is dawn. The sun will soon rise on the horisons. The atmosphere inside this Airbus plane was one of deafening silence when compared to a few hours earlier when the cabin looked like a Somali wedding; men dressed in suits and talking about life back in their adopted countries; women dressed in what certainly were expensive dresses and expensive jewellery and yelling; Abaayo, aboowe, and a few words which they use jokingly.

To the non-somalis on the plane, the most striking feature of last night -apart from the high decibel conversations- was the tattoos on the hands and feet of the female passengers. Stewards/hostesses took turns to get a glimpse of the artwork on display.

It seemed that there was a world championship in Ceelan arts.

When the flight departed Istanbul last night, it was the Somali men who drew attention; they initiated jokes, talked loudly – and perhaps exaggerated their social standings to impress the ladies and even the men. There was Heybe who spoke fondly of his business in London; he made x-pounds every month and mocked Scandinavian countries for providing welfare instead of work. The truth was that Heybe was a social welfare cheat.

There was also Geedii- a 50 year old man from Canada who lived on welfare during his tenure in Canada but who could not resist the boasting frenzy. He claimed that he owned businesses and could in every sentence in Somali use a few English words like “ Biibool” “ Biles” etc

As always, this was a race to the top of Mount Success for the men and women. It was a contest to determine which diaspora country was the best. Back in the diaspora, these blowhards would have been discussing which lalaland was the best. They will post/show pictures of greenery, new buildings etc to show that their lalaland (which they probably never visited) was doing great.

Apart from impressing and joking, it is not unusual that Somali passengers on planes exchange contact details. On this particular flight, exchanging contact details with other passengers will enable diaspora Somalis to meet on the beaches of Mogadisho or the many diaspora cafeterias that have sprawled in this beautiful city . When they meet, they will talk about life back home (their adopted countries) and probably mock those who remained in Muqdisho by using foreign words and discuss the good things about Canada, Norway, UK, US etc which they paradoxically condemned.

The conversations will centre on the greatness and goodness of Minneapolis, Toronto, London etc

Buufis.

On this flight, on this particular morning, the art of political fadhi-ku-dirir took a back seat. Perhaps out of fear, the only politics discussed during the duration of this flight was the progress Somalia was making. The discussions always ended by spontaneous prayers of “ilaahow wadankeena noo hagaaji” before the obligatory “ gaaladaan nacnay” “ dhulkeena waa barwaaqo”.

One of the passengers on this flight was Caasha, a 50+ woman who unlike other female passengers did not wear the ceelan . She wore a simple Garees and modest earrings. As a matter of fact, she was thinking of wearing an Alindhi for the occasion but her friends told her that she risked becoming a victim of Al-shabaab’s wrath.

According to reliable sources, in Somalia, traditional dresses such as the Alindhi, the guntino, the garees and the dirac were endangered. The message was: You could still wear them but you have to wear it under the cabaayo or the tent-like black attire which many women wore as protection against the Morons.

Caasha was born in the town of Luuq, on the banks of the Jubba River. The town of Luuq is always referred to as “Luuq Ganaane” because the river coiled around it like a python feeding on a prey.

Ganaane is the river’s name in this part of Somalia. It is called the “Jubba” river from Baardheere downwards to the Indian ocean. In the NFD until until Doolow, it is called Dawa. When the same river passes through the mountainous area of “Dhuusaay” it is called Ganaane. Just before reaching Buur-dhuubo area, the same river become Jubba.

Luuq is an old town when compared to the other towns in the region. It was a business hub to the whole of Gedo region and half of Bakool and Bay before the 1980s. It was from here that the pilgrims to the tomb of the great Sheikh Aweys in Biyooley in Bakool met to hire buses. It was also here that the southern command of the Somali armed forces was stationed. The artillery and air defence batteries were placed on the hills of Dhuusay ( a border village) to fend off eventual attack from the Ethiopians.

Luuq was supposed to be the final defensive line in case, the Ethiopians, ever invaded Somalia. The talk in town in the 1970s and 80s was that if Luuq was overrun, the Ethiopians would be in Baydhabo in a few hours and outside Afgoye within a day.

There is only to entrance to the town itself.

Luuq boasted beautiful architecture. The main street was dotted with palm trees, shops and hotels. Even though it is the third hottest town in Somalia (after Berbera and Baardheere) the town centre is relatively cold because of the palm trees.
There were three major kinds of activities performed in Luuq; blacksmithing, farming and business. The blacksmiths manufactured knives, utensils etc for the regional market. The farmers grew vegetables which was consumed in the town ( the saying went that if you are from Luuq, you will never be a victim of beriberi) .

The merchants were not natives; many of them came from Mogadishu and bore names such as “Talxa, Thamud, Baasabra” and generally did not intermarry with the Lamagoodles and others. The blacksmiths were natives who also provided entertainment s. The Gabaaweyn Geerar, the Beerey, Kabeebey ,Gabaaweyn Saar and the Gabaaweyn Mingis were Friday features that attracted almost everyone including the merchant class.

Luuq was changed in 1978 when the Ethiopians with the help of the Warsaw pact, Cuba and Soviet lackeys from the middle east and Africa joined forces to force the retreat of the Somali army southwards a year earlier. It was here in Luuq that the first refugee camps were established. In fact, within an 8 month period there were 5 camps outside the town. NGOs started arriving and consequently, merchants, the farmers and the blacksmiths experienced a business boom.

The farmers grew vegetables which were in demand. Because of lack of space in the town, new properties were developed and the town sprawled with newly built suburbs which catered to government officials, NGOs and entrepreneurs who saw opportunities to exploit .

Caasha’s dad , Mowlid, was not a native of Luuq. He was born outside Ceel-berde to a family of camel herders. At the age of 12, young Mowlid was expected to herd the camels; take them to Beledweyne, Wardheer, Yurkud and all the way to Qalaafo where was enough pasture. The camel herders rarely visited big towns. A small village with boreholes so that camels could quench their thirst was enough.

Young Mowlid took on the challenges of camel herding. He herded the camels together with two other boys in several parts of the Somali inhabited territories. When the camels were not on the move, he and other camel boys visited villages to engage in dhallinyarees (shukaansi) with the womenfolk of the villages.

Late in the evenings, the women of the village will organise Saar sessions. They will sing songs that mock the men who will then dance .

Some of the men will even go as far as cutting their wrists and other body parts to show their bravery. They will involuntarily release fumes out of their mouths because of the hormonal stimulations.

The “”Burur is the penultimate goal (trance) and is often a sign that the night was great. It is the climax - a sort of mental orgasm which signifies bravery, valour and will ultimately helps branding. It will be the talking point of the village and will certainly enhance the reputation of the man.

Legend has it that the Burur has the propensity to increase the desire of the womenfolk to mate to use an evolutionary term 

The women – mainly the garoobs- or older women who do not risk being divorced, will sing the vocals. In the background (sometimes hiding behind the older women) are the younger girls who are there to learn and provide the
chorus.

The Saar is not an event for the gashaantos. The more a gashaanta is seen in public, the less her chances of finding a husband .

The law of diminshing returns is at work.

The saar is therefore a venue for divorcees and cajuusos to get a second chance to love.

At the end of the Saar there will be sheeko. Innocent dhallinyarees where compliments will be exchanged. Just like in the west where a good dance is always followed by “thanks for the dance”. Small details such as names and domicile will be also exchanged.

Nothing more. If there is an outright chemistry, an appointment at the next saar occasion will be made.
It was at one of this Saar occasions that young Mowlid met his future wife, Timiro and his life as a camel boy will end.

Timiro had a wonderful voice and was younger than most of the women at the saar. Mowlid could not help but notice that Timiro was showing the “xishood” or the “suuro”. After the Saar, he approached her:

Ii waran walaal?

She answered “nabad” slowly but determined to show that she is not an easy fix.

He joked with her about the lyrics in some of the saar songs.

She asked him about where he is from. He told her that he was a camel herder and that the camels were camped outside the village. He even boasted about killing a lion, about suffocating a mamba and other bravadoes of camel herding.

Boasting is not only a reer magaal trait.

Asking her about her marital condition is irrelevant because married women do not attend this kind of occasions. It is assumed that the saar is a hunting ground for broken hearts.

They made an appointment to meet at the saar the next Friday.’

Mowlid prepared himself for the date. He bought new “ambiro” shoes (shoes made from tyres), combed his afro hair, bought two white sheets and was ready to impress. He had also a visible wooden pillow, a knife, a toothbrush and amulets on his neck.

At the next saar, he made sure that to dance without taking a break. He cut a few cuts on his right hand. Timiro sung songs that praised virility and geeljire culture as if to tell him she is all his.

At the end of the night, Mowlid knew everything he wanted to know. Timiro is a divorcee. She was married at the tender age of 15 to a businessman who went by the name of Haji Macow who was as old as her grandfather. After a month or so, he disappeared out of sight and was never heard of.

After a number of years, the elders of the village and the macalin dugsi met and she was offered “fasaq”.
The village was conservative country where divorce is rare. A divorcee irrespective of the reason is viewed with suspicion and provide the rumour mills with enough materials. It does not matter if there are compelling reasons such as Timiro’s.

After three meetings at the saar, Mowlid proposed rather jokingly. Being straight forward is an insult in conservative country, so he jokingly said that he will send a delegation to her family. Silence to this proposition from her side signified that there were no hinders.

A tacit go head.

He said he will enquire around the village if there are some relatives that he could send as a delegation to ask for her hand. In Somalia, it was common practice that marriages follow an institutional procedure;

1. The bridegroom’s parents/family scouts the village for a future bride. She has to fulfil a basic prerequisite ; good reputation (also her family should have)
2. The family of the groom sends an envoy (sometimes this is done discreetly using predetermined signals) and informs the bride’s family that there will be a delegation.
3. A few men (mostly the groom’s uncles) will visit the family; tea will be made, jokes exchanged and finally a member of the delegation will ask for the hand of the spinster from the bride’s family.
4. In the majority of cases ( unless there are sound reasons like gaalnimo) the bride’s family will thank the delegation for coming and express gratitude that they have been honoured. A family member will then after stories and proverbs utter the words “ gabartii waa idin siiney soo dhista”.
5. The visiting delegation will then hand them some money (very late phenomenon), some kilos of sugar and tea or goats and thank them.
6. A new date for the official marriage will be agreed upon; they will wrap up the occasion by saying “ waad mahadsantihiin, gabarta waxaan soo dhisaneey bisha carafe)

The above will be followed by a wedding; feast, mowlid, buraanbur and saar”

Generally, there are no communications between the bride and groom. It is shameful for a young woman to chat with men.

She could be labelled as the village harlot. There are however, some mechanisms at work. The mother, aunts and sisters of the groom have inside knowledge about the bride to be.

There was an anomaly to the above rules; it was not unusual for young girls to be eloped; taken to other villages and engaged. In this case, the families will meet and the occasion is initiated with a “sabeen “ an apology for the damage done.

For the garoobs, the rules are similar with one exception; the garoobs have the say regarding who they will marry. They can meet potential husbands and when they make the choice, they inform their families.

After a few weeks, Mowlid, accompanied by a few elders including, the well-respected Macalin Beynax were at Timiro’s home and within a few hours the green light was given.

Timiro’s family made sure that her wedding should be like that one of a spinster. Two camels were slaughtered and the village was in festive mood for a week.

A month or so after the wedding Mowlid took the camels to the vicinity of his village. He informed his dad that he has married a woman and that he had decided to move to the Luuq area. His dad was angry. Very angry indeed. As the oldest son, Mawlid was expected to mind the camels which was not only a source of pride but also investments that ensured the family’s future.

Mowlid decided to reason with his dad but there was no compromise. His primary task is camel herding. Allah has bestowed the family with camels. It is a blessing to have healthy camels and in this part of the world, the difference between poverty and plenty, between servitude and freedom, between respect and scorn is camel ownership. Why should Mowlid question Allah’s authority?

Mowlid begged his dad to “release” him. He promised that his relocation to the Luuq area is temporary and that he will return to mind the camels.

He also talked to his mother and requested her to engage in pursuation.

Mumin prayed two more rakacs after the asar prayers and asked Allah forgiveness on what he is about to do. He conveyed a family gathering and before long he gave his blessing on the condition that Mowlid returns before the next draught period so that the camels can be taken to the Hawd for grazing.

Afar faataxo did the trick of avoiding potential inkaar and within a few days Mowlid was on his way to the village.

When the honeymoon was over Mowlid found himself penniless, cameless and without any skills. He was living in a small village but sooner or later he had to move to Luuq. The independence of Somalia was beckoning in the horison and surely, the new nation will need labours and unskilled people as much as the skilled he reasoned.

The positive thing about all this was he was not cursed by his father. He had the blessing of his father and that played a major role for his psyche and future decisions.

On a hot day in the late 1950s Mowlid made it to Luuq, the main town. There were relatively new manual jobs. The UN was recruiting administrative personal for the new nation but without formal education, the odds were against Mowlid.

He worked as a porter for an Arab merchant ; Haji Fadi owned a whole sale garment business and acquired a nickname-
Haji Taano- for being a miser. He was a different man than the other Hajis in town. He was a miser and always was verbally abusive to the wheelbarrow labours.

Mowlid also worked as an unpaid apprentice for one of the blacksmiths to learn the art. His task was to heat the furnaces by pumping air from a goatskin. He observed as the blacksmiths made knives, utensils, doors etc

Timiro became pregnant and very soon Mowlid faced the task of not only feeding ihis expecting wife but also creating the conditions for bringing a child to the world.

Life was tough. Very tough indeed. The family was at the bottom of the pyramid. They could not buy milk, sugar and other necessities. They lived in a small mudul (hut) which was infested with rodents.

The little money Mowlid made as a wheelbarrow porter (he borrowed the wheelbarrow) went to basic necessities such as millet and the occasional half litre of sour milk (he couldn't afford fresh milk).

The blacksmiths helped him as much as they could but they had a limited income.

In January, 1960, five months before independence Caasha was born. Her birth carried no misery. Mamma Timiro – although a first timer- did not feel any pain.

Two months after Caasha’s birth, Mowlid started noticing profound changes in his income. He was an honest and hardworking man who took his job seriously. Very soon, his honesty was noticed by the merchants. He was the first choice of ferrying goods on merchant street.

Soon, he was able to feed his family without any problems and within a few months he had built a brand new hut.

Baby Caasha was nicknamed “Falxado” as a perfunctory that her coming to the world signified luck for the family.

Caasha was sent to school in Luuq at the age of 6 and by the age of 12, she had completed primary school. The missionaries who ran the school were so impressed by her performance that they decided to send her to “collego nuova Somalo” in Mogadisho where the kids of the elite were receiving education during the Italian colonial period and the first years of independency. At collego nuova Somalo, Caasha impressed her teachers; she was good at mathematics, languages (she could speak English, Italian and Arabic) and sciences. Even at the age of 15-16 when her age mates were dating, she remained faithful to her goal of being educated. She visited her parents once every year.

The political climate in Somalia was also changing; during the first 9 years of independence, Somalia had two elections, political bickering and a bloodless coup which at the onset was determined to focus on scientific socialism as the way forward.

Communism with its idols, Marx, Engels, Lenin and Hegel (provided the philosophical undertones) was the new religion. The communist rhetoric became the opium for the Somalis- to paraphrase comrade Marx- who were yearning for unity. The blessed revolution aimed at industrialising Somalia- a nation of nomads- and turn it into a strong and feared nation.

Through songs and symbols, the people will be indoctrinated into accepting scientific socialism as the shining star that will land them utopia.

At the age of 14, Caasha joined the youth wing of the party that will be formed; the Somali revolutionary socialist party (Xisbiga Hantiwadaag kacaanka Soomaaliyeed) was seeing daylight. A number of young men and women were identified in schools and colleges for the task ahead; the young cadres- who resembled the young Hegelians in Germany more than 100 years ago, will be the future leaders of the communist train which departed in 1969 and whose destination was infinite.

The government set a ten-year plan with achievable and accountable goals. The Somali script was introduced, a war was declared on illiteracy, plantations were communalised and a programme called “ Iskaa wax u qabso” (do-it-yourself) was introduced, compulsory military services for both men and women were introduced.

Tribalism was banned and in every village, mock graves were dug to bury it.

Corruption and cronyism were targeted. New and swift laws were introduced which created military courts and the general Audit office which carried out unannounced auditing of government officials ( xisaab xil ma laha). Every Friday, those who were found guilty of corruption – and some kacaan diids- were shot in front of spectators in Waaberi, Mogadishu and other towns. Every Friday at 8 am, Radio Muqdisho started newshour with the song;

Sama diidow debin baa ku dhigan lagu dili doon. Waa dandalaad aan dacwo lahayd.

There was a programme every Saturday morning by the name of “ Maxaay qabaty towradu” (what did the revolution do?) which was aired by Radio Muqdisho. Senior government officials were questioned, named and shamed for not doing much.

They were sacked immediately and sent to Labaatan jirow prision as political prisoners.
In every village and town public meetings were organised along the lines of Marxist principles of self-criticism. At these meetings which was attended by everyone, citizens could express themselves as long as they do not criticise the revolutionary path.

Through a network of informers, the revolution succeeded in identifying not only the counter revolutionaries and capitalistic rodents but also potential political cadres who could will ensure that communism becomes the religion of the masses.

Hundreds of Somalis perished. Thousands jailed. But millions still loved what they saw. They soon became addicts of the opium which was fed to them by Radio Muqdisho and local communist cadres.

Caasha was 15 when her college was closed because according to many Collego Nuova Somalo symbolised colonialism. It was the last remaining artefact of colonialism. She supported the decision whole-heartedly and organised demonstrations at the Italian embassy and the cultural centre.

By this time, Somalia was preparing an offensive to retake Somali galbeed. It had been building its army since independence to fight a war of freedom; to free Djibouti, Somali galbeed and the NFD. Operation freedom was instigated in the middle of the 1960s when Somalia – albeit briefly- went to war with Kenya.

The issue of Somali unity and the crave for freedom for Somalis everywhere and the ultimate unification was cemented before the revolution. In fact, all the 87 political parties that took part in the general election of 1967 had written unification of Somali masses in their manifestos and political platforms.

Abandoning the aspirations for the unity of the Somali people was blasphemy.

The kacaan jumped on this bandwagon of aspirations and immediately started making plans for an offensive in 1976. Men and women were mobilised.

Caasha was by now 16 and she volunteered to train as an intelligence officer to fight the axmaaros ( or injirleeys as she called them). She received training and was soon dispatched to the military communication centre in Daynile a few kilometres outside Mogadishu.

She was so intelligent and language savvy that she was soon discovered by senior officers- and before long the joint military command.

At the age of 17, Caasha was sent to Berlin as a junior office attached to the Somali embassy in Switzerland. Her task was to travel as a backpacker to Berlin, Prague, Vienna, Budapest and get as much information as possible.

In pubs and nightclubs in the east, she gained valuable information which she passed over to the embassy in Geneva and then the government.

Caasha was a diehard communist and strongly believed in class wars. To her, communism is the only ideology that could unite Somalis, fight the cancer of tribalism and lead to development. She used Marxist dialectic materialism and cited Engels, Lenin and Marx to make a point. She loved debating. She always won the debate because her knowledge of the meal of the matter was solid.

She did not marry although she dated many men. When asked by her friends and family why she did not marry, she always gave the predictable answer “ I am married to the revolution”.

In 1984 at the age of 24, Caasha was recalled to Mogadishu to work at the foreign ministry. She packed her bags and arrived at Muqdisho airport on a Saturday morning. Instead of flowers, she was met by plain clothes agents from the secret service who took her to a secluded villa near Baar Ubax. She was accused of being an enemy of Somalia; for aiding the enemy (read Warsaw pact) and for initiating a counter revolution in Somalia. In her bags, the secret agents found the works of Zhou Enlai and other Chinese intellectuals who were accused of leading underground movements in the post Mao china.

By now , Somalia had left the communist path- at least raw communism- and was soliciting the US and the Nato pact and communism- least of all Marxism was falling out of favour.

Caasha was later transferred to Labataan jirow (the infamous prison for dissidents) where she spent three months. After her release negotiated by Amnesty International, Caasha settled in a small apartment in Boondhere. Among her release conditions was a provision that required her to never participate in meetings and never to promote communism.

She was depressed and suicidal. Her private life also suffered; she married three men in a four year period. The major reason for the divorces was unevenness in intellect. She was well read, intellectually sophisticated and very articulate.
In 1988, at the age of 29, Caasha got an invitation from the Rumanian Embassy to participate in a gala at the embassy for President Nikolai Ceausescu who was on a state visit to Somalia. It was out of the question for her to meet him at Villa Somalia because the regime will certainly claim that she is a foreign agent.

She met the ambassador at the reception and requested him for a visa to Romania which she was granted.
Caasha left Muqdisho in February 1988 and arrived in Bucharest on a winter morning. She had no plans concerning her future other than living in a communist country. A few months after arriving in Bucharest, communism in Eastern Europe was crumbling and ultimately the Berlin wall came down in 1989.

Communism was no longer fashionable. It had lost its splendour .

Caasha crossed the border to Hungary and then to Austria where she sought asylum.

In Austria, Caasha studied history and soon found work as a teacher at a college in Vienna.
More than 54 years after she was born in Luuq and 26 years after leaving Mogadishu, Caasha was back in Somali airspace.

Flight TK 687 had just left Djibouti airspace and according to the inflight monitor she was now entering Somali airspace. Overcome by emotions at the sight of Somalia’s map on the screen, she shouted “ Soomaliya ha noolaato” which was the mantra of nationalists/patriots during her teenage years. She suddenly realised that the passengers will think that she is a crazy woman from the diaspora but to her surprise every somali on the plane was singing “ soomaaliya ha noolato” .

Welcome to Aden Ade airport said Captain Özil when the plane touched down. The weather is excellent; sunny and blue skies and the temperature is 33 degrees Celsius.

"Thank you for flying Turkish airline"....

When the doors of the plane were opened, Caasho rushed to the tarmac, kneeled a few meters from the arrivals hall and
kissed the tarmac.

What will happen to her in the future days/months/years is not that important at the moment; she will cherish the opportunity of the moment

[Vivacious]

I have bookmarked this for reading later on. Welcome back though Lam

[Marques]

Just finished reading it. What a remarkable journey she's been on in life. I'm assuming it's not a sequel, right?

[GeoSeven]

Good read

[PrinceDaadi]

That was a good read, it always amazes me how our life crosses many hills and valleys with out us noticing!

[AbkoowDhiblaawe]

Sheeko xiiso badan waaye macalin lamagoodle, halkaa kasii wad.

[LeJusticier]

I have bookmarked this for reading later on. Welcome back though Lam

It was interesting and entertaining but reminds me my first undergraduate essay

[Grant]

Wow! Welcome back, Lam.

[grandpakhalif]

great literature

[kambuli]

Lamagoodle, horta sheekadii hore miyey dhamaatey? Sidaan u sugayey ayaanba ku daalee....Mese tolow way I geftey?

As usual this is another great story, it makes a lot to me probably due to my age.

[Skippa]

Very nice! Well done sir

[Lamagoodle]

Thank you Skippa, Deeqa, Grant,Grand, PrinceD and Geoseven.

Marcues; adeerkiis: no, there will be no sequel

Le-Justicier; saaxib, my next story will about Cawaale from Ceel Afweyne and I hope that will be at the post graduate level

Saaxib, waa inaan mar kuugu soo booqdo London si aan u sheekaysano. Laba hablood oo xusul baruur oo noo gogla noo raadi

Kambuli, sheekadaasi waan soo celiyey . Dadka meeshaan soo booqdo aniga iyo adiga ayaa u yar. Waxaa naga yar un Lejusticier Marka it will appeal everyone.

[LeJusticier]

Thank you Skippa, Deeqa, Grant,Grand, PrinceD and Geoseven.

Marcues; adeerkiis: no, there will be no sequel

Le-Justicier; saaxib, my next story will about Cawaale from Ceel Afweyne and I hope that will be at the post graduate level

Saaxib, waa inaan mar kuugu soo booqdo London si aan u sheekaysano. Laba hablood oo xusul baruur oo noo gogla noo raadi

Kambuli, sheekadaasi waan soo celiyey . Dadka meeshaan soo booqdo aniga iyo adiga ayaa u yar. Waxaa naga yar un Lejusticier Marka it will appeal everyone.

Abow abow kaas mid ka dherer badanaaaaaaaaaa? yakhii indhii waa noogeen.

Lamagoodle, anigu cilin baan ahay(kambuuli kama yari). Waxaan xusuustaa wakhtigii Kabmuuli ahayd jaarkayga. It was late 70s(Burco). Kambuuli was GUULWADE. Markay uniform-ka xidhantahay ayaan daaqada ka daawan jiray. Kurus kun laba kun, laafyaha bidix tuur....alaahu akbar......dhowr jeer ayay igu qabatay khaawisaada......

[kambuli]

Lamagoodle,

Thanks huuno maalintii aan ogaadey inuu meeshan wax ku qoro ku yaroo adeerkey dhalay oo 14 jir ah, ayaan garwaaqsaday in la gaadhay xilligii aan retire gareen lahaa. Hase yeeshee golahani albaab laga galo ayuu leeyahay ee mid laga baxo ma leh.

Le-Justicier.

Even though some of my siblings still live in Burco, I lived in there for a short time, I was like 7yrs. I don't remember that much.
Speaking of Guulwade, yaa heli kara

[Skippa]

Thank you Skippa, Deeqa, Grant,Grand, PrinceD and Geoseven

Keep 'em coming bro...We need more

but reminds me my first undergraduate essay

Faantaar dhugle...It was very well written...show us what you got, la iskama hadlee