Close to a decade ago when I came to America I was part of a large wave of Somali refugees who came with sponsorship. During the process I happen to get acquainted with families whom we shared the same flight to Atlanta. There was this old Somali lady whom was designated as a mother of one of the sponsorship. The old lady was in her mid fifties at the time. Yesterday I happened to cross path with the old lady. I haven’t seen her since the first few years of our arrival. I used to be worried how she was going to adapt to the fast world of North America. A place where money has to be wooed and won by speaking the language, how in the world was she going to make it in America. She didn’t spoke a word of English. She wasn’t related to the folks she brought as a mother in the sponsorship. I was worried how she was going to make it when the patience of the good Samaritans run out or the little energy in her dissipated when she hits sixties! Yesterday I was impressed with the accomplishment she was able to acquire through hard work and prayer. She was able to pay for her son to come to Canada. She built a house in Africa, and to top it off she sent her relatives to Hajj. The giant will she created in her mind was one that floored my mind. I fully realized that no one can stop the will of an elderly person. I discovered that she was still working at the same factory she was hired when she came to America. I know for a fact that her accomplishments were not born out of laziness. I miscalculated the genius that slept in this old ladies mind when I first met her a decade ago. Yes she has never seen the four walls of a classroom, but she has accomplished far more than a college graduate like me. Specialized knowledge of the real world and imagination is what went into the mind of this old lady. I foolishly believed that her age and language barrier was going to hinder her success in America. I now believe that courage backed by hard work transmutes itself into success. All the fear I had for her was reduced to nothing more than a state of mind. I was afraid of her facing poor health, poverty and old age in North America.I guess I didn’t knew enough of her indomitable qualities when I guessed the quality of her life in North America. As I was busy getting to the future, this old lady has achieved more than I ever did.I could feel the energy filled in her body as we pulled to her apartment.I wondered where she will be in the next decade.Will she go back home to Somalia and live a lavish life? Will she bank her retirement pension while she lives a modest life in America.I could still feel dejavu in me a decade ago while she was advising me to get married quickly and start a happy family.I would be deluding myself if I said that she didn't changed the way I view people the moment she waved at me as she entered her apartment. HAPPY FRIDAY!!!!

This past weekend I was in the local ATL-Dahabshil office wiring money back home when I saw an old Somali lady struggling to sign at the back of her pay check. I was impressed with the imaginative faculty of her mind. I am betting that she has harnessed the ability to jot down her signature through self-confidence. I admire such old ladies who demand of themselves persistence and continuous action towards reading and writing this foreign language. She was my hero of the day!

Only In America would you find an Equalizer....This is for all the hatemongers........ Title: From a Prison to Princeton. By: Cose, Ellis, Newsweek, 00289604, 11/12/2007, Vol. 150, Issue 20 Database: Academic Search CompleteFrom a Prison to Princeton Section: FACING FACTS When Abass Hassan Mohamed was born in Somalia in 1982, his father honored the event with a variation on a traditional Somali ritual. Instead of tying the umbilical cord to a goat or wad of money--in hopes that the child would prosper when he grew up--Hassan Mohamed Abdi tied it to a book and buried it near a school. "A book and a pen. I did that for all my children," says Abdi, a bearded man of regal bearing. He was convinced that his progeny, members of a scorned minority tribe, would need a strong education to make their way in the world. Little did he know how far his son would go. Abass is now a junior at Princeton University. And he has become something of a legend in the refugee camp where he was raised, for having blazed a path out of a sanctuary that is also a kind of prison, where young people languish with little hope for a productive life. Abass's odyssey began in Ifo--one of three refugee camps carved out of the Kenyan desert and collectively called Dadaab. He and his parents, grandmother and five siblings fled there from Somalia in 1992--a harrowing journey by foot, truck and bus. The camp is a depressing, dry and dusty place. Their new home was constructed of twigs covered with a plastic sheet. There were no beds, no toilets and no schools. Instead, a fellow refugee convened classes under a tree. "He didn't have chalk. So . . . he would write in the sand and we'd copy," says Abass. His father had long revered education, crediting his modest success and even his marriage to a woman of higher clan status to his own schooling. Abass and his brothers were very much their father's sons. Once camp officials built a bare-bones elementary school, they were always at the head of the class. When Abass and his younger brother took the test for the Kenya Certificate of Primary Education, they scored first and second highest of all those in Dadaab. A few years later Abass received the highest score in all of northeastern Kenya and the eighth highest in the nation on his high-school exams. Of the roughly 170,000 refugees who call Dadaab home, a handful make it to Western schools each year, thanks largely to a program operated by World University Service of Canada. Since 1978, WUSC has sent close to 1,000 students from around the world--including Abass's brother Osman--to Canadian universities. Abass found another route out. A visiting professor from Princeton heard about his academic success and sent a Princeton application to Dadaab officials. CARE, which administers the camp and its schools, arranged for Abass's first-ever plane ride so he could take the SAT in Nairobi. Months later, when his acceptance package arrived at CARE's offices, Abass was ecstatic: "I didn't want to cry--that would be unheard of for a Somali man--but I was extremely overjoyed." Two staffers in the Dadaab office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees prepped him, instructing him on American customs and manners. One of them even dipped into her purse to pay his plane fare to America (which he eventually repaid). Hearing he had no money for a visa, Somalis at the United Nations in Geneva sent $100 to help out. In August 2005, Abass landed on U.S. soil. He moved into a tiny dorm room: the most magnificent dwelling he had ever seen. "The room was very beautiful, well furnished with a bed, with a mattress, with a chair, with a table, with electricity. I didn't have to use my kerosene lamp anymore," he says. It took Abass weeks to figure out the radiator on the wall. He also had to learn how to use the shower. His first day in the dining hall, he was astonished at the amount and variety of food: "I thought it was part of Princeton's hospitality welcome . . . Then I realized that was the same thing that was being served almost on a daily basis." He found two jobs and quickly adjusted to the strange new place. Now a junior studying environmental science, Abass is still working two jobs and sending money back home. But he's also settled in. "I miss my family . . . but I feel at home in Princeton," he says. Earlier this year he was approved for political asylum, which means eventually he may be able to marry a girl in the camps he has his eye on, and even bring some family members to the United States. That hope makes their lives so much brighter than the lives of tens of thousands of their neighbors, who see only desert sand stretching into infinity. For kids in Dadaab without Abass's diligence and luck, options are few. Even if they can get into a Kenyan university, they're prohibited as refugees from taking jobs in the country once they graduate. If they are not awarded a precious resettlement slot in a peaceful country, or spirited away by a program like WUSC, they essentially have three choices. They can languish, vanish into the illegal netherworld or return to violence-racked Somalia. An estimated 7 million refugees worldwide are similarly "warehoused"--separated from society, deprived of basic rights, trapped in a stateless limbo. That number gives only a hint of the daunting odds a would-be Abass has to overcome. • Adapted From "Against the Odds," A Radio Production Of Ellis Cose, Inc., Distributed By Public Radio International And Supported By The Ford Foundation.

I am back to work after praying EID prayer with my muslim brothers and sisters in Atlanta.We prayed outside African Style.I was impressed with the commitee arrangement of the prayer.The only good organization I have found in a Somali community for quite sometime.With the Fall wind blowing on our backs we all set outside and prayed in a uniform.Strangers and neighbours their eyes etched to the prayer scene.I was moved and impressed with commitee effort.EID Mubarak to SOL community!

^^^Lilly don't make me tell the gaalka that I wouldn't show up tomorrow for work.I will wait until the end of the day and keep monitoring muslim site for the actual Eid day!

I am sorry to hear about the death of your grandma Val, May Allah give you and your family strength during this difficult time. AKA Stoic

Brown, Lol with the Mandazi.... I had an incident with my girlfreind where I couldn't say the word Mandazi in Somali.I think our Somali people call it Quurac or Buur depending on where you came from south or north. What is kiibiista ya mayai called in Somali? I have hard time with naming the Somali food in Somali. And Why is it that caathriyata is served only during Ramathan and Xuuska?

I am alive, I am alive, I am alive..... Although I haven't been posting lately let me make it clear that I am still kicking it.I do log in from work everyday and check topics that are interesting .Once I get to my house no computer for me for I like to stay away from all gadgets after long day of work. AKA Stoic

After a long day of work I normally try to finish the first four rakaahs on weekdays, but on a Friday/saturday/sunday nights I do finish the taraweeh prayer.My Imam rocks.I like his sermons in between the breaks.Although he is not fluent on English most of the African American Salafi muslims do enjoy his khutba.

Where I live its five hundred dollars fine for exposing your boxers in Atlantic Station and other upscale neighbourhoods malls..Glad that I am way over the years of sagging my pants.When I am at the masjid praying taraweeh and I see young Somali kids with sagging pants I just laugh at myself and say Geellu lawajiir wuusowathamaray ! AKA Stoic

Talk about letting a city down.When the seasons kicks this thursday night Atlanta will miss the #7 Jersey that has rocked the city for the last few years.I am a big fan of Falcons having lived in the city close to a decade.I have always admired the dude, but to do dumb stuff like this will never be excused even by Jesus himself.I feel sorry for the guy, but to pull the race card on this will be alittle bit over board.Yes there are people who will never like to see a young black man with a hundred million dollar contract.Who in his right mind will ever loose a hundred million dollar deal over thirty thousand dollars? :mad:

Happy Labour day to all my Americanos.Every one is in the holiday mood at my job.

Poor Girl, I blame it all on the public education.She is a southerner by the grace of God. PS: This is a test on my work computer.Just checking if SOL is a blocked website by the Corporate policy. :mad:

I didn't know Qabil was big of an issue until I statrted dating my future wifey.As usual from previous experience I suspected after few trips to the Starbucks she was going to ask me what my Qabiil was .Maybe I was invidious with my thoughts of the question.This girl grew up in the West since she was like two years old.The dearth of my self explanation everytime I meet a Somali girl wasn't entertaining.I caught the bug.I found myself being curious as to what tribe she was from.I found myself in the receiving end of asking questions. How was I going to ask what Qabil she was? I finally asked when I couldn't hold it back any more in a more respectable manner(LOL).I asked her what city her parent visit for vacation( SOL politcal section of solving the Qabiil quadratic equation.Who is supporting what region?).From this I was able to unlock the security code.She never even once ask what I was.I know the Qabiil thing will play a role on the engagement day, but I atleast for once I met someone who never cares about the whole thing.Even though I am infected she will probably help our kids. My advice would be not to tell them who they are.It is a disease.Soon or later they would pick it up themeselves.I grew up with Kids who were not my qabiil and not once did I felt as an outsider.I become more interested into Qabil stuff when I came to the West (sad right?).

^^^I just got a new offer with better pay.I couldn't be happier than I am.All I had to say under my breath was Alhamdulilah while the HR manager was listing the benefits.I am grateful to Allah for answering my prayer of getting out of my overworked underpaid position.Life is good and may Allah answer the prayer of those still searching for that good job! PS Valenteenah, I will soon be in good behaviour too.LOL AKA Stoic

Oops my vision got worse(old age kicking).I went to my Opthalmologist on Friday and my prescription got upgraded.You should be thankful if your vision is 20/20 or 20/15. This is the downside of going for a check up you might never know what the Doc is going to say about your health.The damn lenses alone costed me 200$ and then the frame(which is a designer label ) costed me 140 dollars.Ahem, that was three hundred and forty dollars out my damn pocket :mad:

Some times do you feel like you despise your boss to the extent of not even wanting to say hello to him/her in the morning. I don’t like my boss . I think she is a bully. I currently have three bosses (crazy company, right?). I indirectly report to two of those bosses while I directly report to my laboratory manager (I call her the witch.).She is a back stabbing coward who likes to shove all her responsibilities to analysts. She loves to see other employees in hot seat while she covers her faults by blaming her subordinates. This week some thing happened in the laboratory that none of the analyst had anything to do with it. She got a harsh warning from up top. Instead of her handling her problems in the utmost professional way she started parading her emails to us the analyst. What kind of a leader can’t even keep his or her correspondent with the management confidential? This morning she convened an “urgent meeting” in the lab expecting us to show a sympathy for her. I for one never give a hoot about her conflict with the management team. I thought the Karma was catching up with her. This week the management fired a nice manager in one of the other laboratory over the quality of her work. My current boss thinks that the real fire is coming maybe to her. I feel sorry for the other manager who was fired, but I doubt if I will ever feel remorse for a bully who wants to be friendly whenever it fits her needs. This weekend she invited a group of us for a lunch at her expense. Part of me wants to turn down the offer while another part of me wants to make a good impression until my approaching performance review is over.Although I believe one only get a raise or promotion because of his/her outstanding ability to solve a major project problem or completed a new responsibility in a timely manner, but sometimes this things do come with a little kiss ***. This is the true nature of the business world nowadays. I try to stay focused on the purpose and goals of my work nature, but sometimes it is hard to concentrate when you have a hostile finger pointing boss :mad: .

It is not that scarry for a first date.Every one in there is a reer magaal.I doubt if they would mind a Somali couple dating.It is the only restaurant I found a Somali bartender(How cute?lol Istagfuruallah).Although I begged my girlfreind to dine there with me, but she adamantly refused.She was scared of meeting someone that knows her family in there.I like the Gorgetown area at night.You should take a stroll there at night. You are more than welcome to PM me if you have any question whenever you are in A-town.Unless you want to go to Savannah there is nothing else in Georgia.It is a bit of a slow state.What do you expect it is the sleepy southern state.

^^^Just to prrove what you said I will advice her to go by Cafe Nema .If you are a conservative/religious Somali I wouldn't advice you to go there.It would be a shocker for you.I liked the owner(A nice fellow).It is on U street.As for cultural stuff I think DC museums would do you a justice.I would let you know more once you hit the South.Especially Atlanta.

Mabrook to Shujui. I close freind of mine is getting Nikkah ceremony today too here in Atlanta(which by the way I have been invited ).She is a member of this site, but I suspect she hasn't been around here for a good part of the last two years.I got my khamis and Imaamat ready for the ceremony.

ALLAMAGAN, I know all about the Kenyan police and their downright aggression against the Somalis in Kenya. Still it occurs to me that we can’t say that there is an open campaign to harass the Somalis by the Kenyan government and thugs. There is a peculiar array of habits and attitudes by the Kenyan police solely reserved for the Somalis.I hate to chuck the truth under the nearest waste bucket I can find, but to accuse the Somalis who are in authority for the mistreatment of their breathren is a little over the board. There could be subtle unintentional lack of support from this leaders, but I am sure that many Somalis would look out for the welfare of other Somali when in the environ of outsiders.But behind these solidarities would always lie a human selfishness of not caring about something that doesn’t affect you.Unless you are shipwrecked in an incident you wount take a look at the world that surrounds you.I am sure that if those Somali leaders you are talking about walk in the streets of Eastleigh at night they will definitely be stopped by the police. For one I will agree with you that they as leaders need to step up to the plate and help the Somali guests(although I doubt if they can be called guest any more having lived in the country more than a decade).In personal opinion I think the Kenyan government have really helped the Somalis .

Bob, one of my boy did a bungee jump lately when he was vacationing in South Africa.I suspect it was Bloukrans bridge in Plettenberg Bay.I doubt I could do that in a million years.

Pongezi kwa dada wetu.Furaha tele Kwa mapenzi alo vishana na mshikaji wake(ni kitumia neno hilo kwa ungalifu ).Leo unaufunguo wa maisha kwa hakika ni jambo la maana kukamilisha suna tulivyo elezwa na mtume wetu.Sote twa kujalia kila la kheri.Kila wakati unapo taka kujiuzulu na mapenzi kumbuka jinsi mulivyo kuwa mukielezana mazuri mwanzoni kila wakati.Hongera dada.Mola awa weke upendo na uzuri usiyoisha.

It is official that I hate my job with a passion.Especially when you have three managers double checking your work.From the technical director to the Quality Assuarance manager to the Laboratory Manager.I hate all this mess.I am about to scream inside the laboratory right now.My advice to any science major never ever work as an analyst at an Environmental laboratory. :mad: PS It is Friday and I am about to count down the minutes till I get out of that door.

Sitting amid the wedding guests I was once picked by the lady with the stick in her hand.Even though I wasn't intrigued by her choice of picking me I knew I was going to open the damn thing.It wasn't too late before the lady started hiting me for starting from the wrong end.I regreted for trading my quite disposition for acting up as a chattier person to the judges.They sentenced me to dance with the most beautiful flower in the crowd.It was a hard decision.Especially when every flower was displaying dazling smile at the young turk.I was about to present the most exeburant dancing ever, but I opted to dance with my little niece who were clueless. You really can't go wrong with an edible hilib and timiir smashed together by a bunch of old ladies in a wedding mood .