Cigaal shidaad gets my vote, he was a great tactician.

^ LOL..That is why I gave the guy the 5 stars long time ago. read his exchange with NUR in the islamic section. Yaa nuune the binary number 101001 in decimal numbers is 41, I wonder what that 41 stands for. I will say it is his age. lets see if anyone gets it right Nur said: I get dizzy reading your write-up, can you simplify it a bit? it seems that you have a lot in your mind but unable to walk slowly for others to follow you. Everyword you write triggers a topic of its own, such as your Title ( Araathilunaa) but, there is no connection between the words or the sentences. Try to compose your thoughts with simplicity to be beneficial. Murridi replied: you know what made me dizzy? in my town there are only two mosques they are in different time zones! Classic here

"(He) was a brilliant student with straight A's and on top of his class," Ahmed testified at a Senate hearing in March focusing on recruitment efforts by al-Shabaab. "He was an ambitious kid with the hope to go to Harvard University to study medicine or law and become a medical doctor or a lawyer." What a waste of life! He reminds me of another ambitious young man who we lost to a similar fate.

Ismahaaney, su’aal fiican ayaad soo bandhigtey, anigu sida aan u arko somaliga qoraalkiisa dhayal lagulama keeno. Xeerarka qoraalka afkeenu meelo badan ayey qabyo ka yihiin oo waxaad dareemasaa markaad is tidhaa qor errayo badan oo xaga dhawaaqa ka siman. Si kastaba ha ahaatee, Dadku badiba wey ogsoon yihiin qabyada ka jirta; dad luqadeena ku xeel dheer oo iney qabyo-tiraan isku dayey haatana ku howlani wey jiraan iyaguna. Dhinaca barshadiisa tusaale ahaan xaga qoritaanka anoo iska mal-maluuqa ayuun baan is arkey runtii oo si aan hawl badneyn ayaa lagu bartaa waa hadii uu dhawaaqu kuu saxsanyahey, alleylahee shaqalada iyo xarafyada “c”, “dh” ,“kh” iwm oo qudha ayuunbaa xaafada la iiga saxay. Badanaa dhawaaqeygey ayuun baan ka qiyaas qaadan jirey, dad badanina sidaa wey ila qabeen. Teeda kale, qoraalkiisa ayaa qofka bixinaya amaba laga dhandhansan karaa deegaanka uu ka soo jeedo xagaana qabiilkiisu cida uu yahey ayaa laga qiyaasi karaa. Xitaa akhristayaashu si kale oo guracan ayaa laga yaabaa iney u qaataan fikradaha wax ku oolka ah ee uu markaa soo daabaco qoraago. Hase -ahaate, hadii uu ingiriisi ku qori lahaa waxa suurto gal ah iney sida saxda ah ee uu ugu talo galey u fasiran lahaayeen qoraalkiisa. Sidaa awgeed dad badan ayaa door bidda iney ingiriisi wax ku soo qoraan. Afkeenu waa hodan runtii waxa taa ka marag kacaya qoraaladan: 1-Hodannimada Afka Miyaga iyo Hagardaamada ay Magaalo ku Hayso 2- Qalabka iyo Suuganta Qodaalka 3- Faaraadin Ayaynu Beri Lahaan Jirnay Sidoo kalena Bashir Good ayaa “ku fara yareystey” sheekadan iyada ah. Waa kan ee akhris wacan. Singing into a vacuum : the torment of a Somali playwright. By: Bashir Goth “Af qalaad aqoontu miyaa? Maya, Maya! Maahee af qalaad, aqoontu miyaa? Maya, maya! Mahee, waa intuu qofba Eebbe gashaa Ayey nala tahay anagee, ma ogtahay Dib looma abuuro dadkee.. With these prophetic words, the celebrated Somali playwright and lyricist Ali Sugule had decried the adoration of the educated class for foreign languages and their utter despise for their mother tongue, not aware at the time that his words would haunt him in his old age. The power of the lyric's words are accentuated by Sugule's shock therapy style of starting his song by a question, thus bringing the listener's senses to a full attention and inviting him to a moment of contemplation “Af Qalaad aqoontu miyaa? Is knowledge nothing more than speaking a foreign language” . And bang, comes the answer before the listener awakens from his initial awe with an emphatic repetitive “Maya, Maya… No, No.”. He then heightens the effect of the words to further ensure the complete mental engagement of the listener by questioning the truth of his emphatic ‘No', saying “Maahee, afqalaad aqoontu miyaa? Are sure, knowledge is nothing more than speaking a foreign language?” He finally offers deliverance to the listener from his bewilderment by giving the answer though not without cautioning him/her that such could only be his view ”Mahee, Waa intuu qofba Eebbe gashaa…Ayey nala tahay anagee.. . No, never, (knowledge) is nothing but whatever God gives to each and everyone..” but again not without rounding it up with a no-further-argument- allowed statement of “Ma ogtahay, dib looma abuuro dadkee.. Don't you know that people are not created twice..” Little did Ali Sugule know at the time that these forceful and profound words he wrote in 1965 would be staring at him in the face after 40 years. History they say repeats itself, and surely it did at least for Ali Sugule and for a tormented crowd of mothers who grew up singing his lyrics without the least anticipation that a time would come when the Somali language and the whole culture and heritage that it enshrined, let alone Ali Sugule's literature, would be alien to their own children. This was a tormenting and in fact a soul-searching moment for a crowd of UAE-based Somali expatriates who gathered at the Arab Cultural Club in Sharjah to honor more than 30 high school graduates who scored between 95% and 99.6% in their final GCE exams. At the outset, things looked normal with the guests and proud mothers and fathers arriving with their beautiful and enthusiastic daughters and sons, their faces radiating with happiness for their exam achievements. If not for a few men wearing the white Arab robes, one would not have suspected of being in a foreign land. It was also delightful to see several young Somali women working tirelessly as members of the organizing team, welcoming people and leading them to their seats with the finesse and charm expected of a professional emcee. Caught by the spell of the melodious recitation of the Quran, few if any of the audience had noticed that the ritual incantation in which the teenager Mohammed Abdul Karim had recited the verses, despite his excellent voice and exceptional mastery of the Quranic incantation rules, was not quite in terms with the traditional straightforward and quick recitation style of the Somalis . Due to their nomadic life which depends on urgency and frequent movement of animals and homestead, the Somali Quranic students neither had the time nor the leisure or the need to spend long hours practicing and imitating the Arab cantillation of the holy Quran, a vocalization which itself is quite alien to the auricular faculties of the Somali people. Hence, came the unique and more native Somali style of reading the Quran which lends more weight to the correct enunciation of words and meaning rather than the slow, prolonged, tedious and rather preposterous intonation of the Arabs. With the recitation of the holy Quran over, two young members of the organizing team took the podium. Nasra Abdi, an educated young lady dressed in western style but with a traditional Islamic headscarf, was the first to come to the microphone. Speaking in impeccable Somali, she gave the audience, at least the nervous elderly folks, the reassurance that they were on familiar ground and that the evening would be comprehensible to them. It was then seen as quite fair though a bit awkward when her co-presenter Ahmed Shire translated what Nasra had so eloquently put in simple and quite basic Somali into Arabic for the benefit of the young generation for whom the ceremony was being held in their honor. Distress, however, struck, when Ali Sugule, a distinguished playwright and a house-hold name in Somali literature, was invited to the podium to recite a poem he wrote for the occasion. A man whose appearance on the stage caused rapturous applauding and admiration beyond belief back home, Ali Sugule had shuffled towards the stage almost unbeknownst to the young audience, who surely never heard his name. Though wearing a white Arab robe (dhishdasha) itself did not augur well for his role as an African cultural icon and as a symbol for the foreign-born Somali youth, Ali Sugule took the microphone with the confidence of a masterful artist and had uttered a few wise words about the importance of the homeland , “haybad waxad ku leedahay dalkaaga – you have a dignity only in your own country”, culture and heritage before he started his poem. After the recitation of his poem, Ali Sugule left the stage with a sense of loss and bewilderment visibly seen in his gestures and movement. No applaud, no laughter, no nodding of the head in agreement or admiration of the profound truths, images and humor he had marshaled in his verse, no delight, no wonderment, no emotions at all. Even when he tried to simplify and descend to a baby's language saying “Aabbo iyo hooyo, Abaal gudkiina, Ilaabi mayno – dad and Mom, never shall we forget the debt we owe to you” the young audience remained silent. As if oblivious to his plight, Ali Sugule told the audience that it was time for music and had given a signal to Salem Saeed Salem, a renowned musician and former member of the Waaberi National band, to start playing a lyric he wrote about the importance of higher education and universities.Though lulled by the musical notes, it was obvious that Ali Sugule's words in the song just like his lines in the poem before it had rained on a barren land. . The first lines of the lyric called “at the university's campus” read as follows: Waxaynu dooneynaa, Rag iyo dumarba U doodeynaa, u doodeynaa Ineynu dab shidnaayoon, Dhammaan ku diirsanaa… With a non-literal translation, the foregoing lines could be interpreted as “ What we all want as men and women, what we advocate, is to ignite a fire that we can all feel its warmth.” The music, the words of the lyric and the sonorous voice of Salem which otherwise made quite an exciting and inspirational blend, stirring nostalgic emotions among the older folks, failed to touch the heart of the young girls and boys in the auditorium. Apart from a courteous clapping as the song came to an end, the audience didn't show any interaction whatsoever with the music. At this point, Ali Sugule couldn't hide his frustration and disappointment when he involuntarily climbed the stage and lamented the audience's lack of response: “what happened? You were supposed to sing, clap and be enchanted by the music?” But to no avail. This is the man who inflamed the Somali people with his nationalistic lyrics at the time of independence and beyond. The man who wrote unforgettable plays such as Himiladeena (Our Aspirations) 1960, Indho Sarcaad (Illusion) 1962 which included the famous lyric ‘Nin lagu seexdow ha seexan', Ma Huran (Destiny) 1965 which included Afrikaay Hurudooy (Oh! sleeping Africa) , Dhagax iyo Dabka (Fire and Stone) 1966, Midnimo (Unity) 1967 which included ‘Waa baa beryey', Kala Haab (Antipodal views) 1967 which included ‘Ma hadhin hadal la is yidhaahdaa' and finally Sheeg iyo Shareer (Exposure and Concealment) 1969. This is the man who tortured the conscience of the educated class with his “Afrikaay hurudooy – Oh! Sleeping Africa” resonated on the airwaves by none other then the legendary voice of Magool, a woman described by the Sudanese as the Umm Kalthoum of black Africa. Almost half a century after he came into the Somali theatre with his ground-shaking plays and at the twilight of his life and career when he was supposed o be venerated as a national treasure, Ali Sugule was today singing into a vacuum. Being a poet and an ardent lover of Somali literature myself, I could feel Ali Sugule's torment as he left the stage and went out of the auditorium. I joined him outside and we together consoled each other on the death of the role of the Somali poet, at least among the growing Somali community in the diaspora. The cultural torment became manifold when the key Speaker of the evening Ahmed Sheikh, Chairman of the Somali Youth Committee in Sharjah, and an undergraduate student in Sharjah University, delivered the main speech in Arabic, a language that he rather fittingly thought would have a better appeal to the young honorees of the night. This was topped by a poem written and recited in Arabic by one of the youth in which he forcefully expressed his nationalistic feelings towards his homeland in the hyperbolic style of the Arabic language, ending it with the following emotional outburst: “Wa Raka'tu Uqabilu Arda A Soomaal… And I bowed kissing the soil of the land of the Somalis…” which is a rather befitting tone to a young man born outside his country and longing to see it and to the youth in the audience who after excelling in the final exams found the doors of the country's universities shut before them, thus yearning for a peaceful and prosperous homeland where they could call themselves citizens after carrying the stigma of being a “wafid – expatriate” in a country in which they were born, raised, educated and excelled academically, proofing that given the same circumstances as their peers, African children can attain excellence in any field and any language. Of all the places to which the Somali people migrated, it may sound ironic and somewhat a tragedy to know that it is only in Muslim countries, and particularly Arab states that they found themselves as the most alien, the most discriminated and the most unwanted. Arab countries are one of the few if not the only places on earth where one packs up his bags and leaves unwanted and unappreciated after 30 years of service without any rights of citizenship for himself or for his children who never knew any other home. Just as Ali Sugule was haunted by the lines he wrote 40 years ago, I was also haunted by the first lines of a poem I wrote many years ago on being an expatriate in an the Arab world: “Cumarow ma faaraxo ninkii, Carab fadhiistaaye Nina kama fanaanco intuu, Liidka fidiyaaye Faruuryaha ma leefaan kuwii, Fiiftigii yimiye Nin bidaari ugu foodhisoo, Ganucu foocaaray Oo tusbax fasaasa ah watiyo, Carabi foojaysan Oo faraha taagaya ka tega, Foodhi (forty) dabadeede…” The torment that Ali Sugule and I had shared, reached its pinnacle when an Arabic song by the late Egyptian Abdul Halim Hafiz was played at the interval and the whole audience erupted into a festival on hearing the first words: “Yaa hayaat albi wa afraaxu… the life of my heart and its delight”. At this point I couldn't help but survey the auditorium left and right and finally look at my friend Abdillahi Ali Bahal, who was sitting next to me and like me bewildered by the plight that befell our people. Though proud of the achievement of his daughter Rahma, who politely sat beside him, and was the second top honoree with a percentage of 99.1% in the science stream, he was well aware and worried about the cultural erosion that benighted her generation. A generation that had grown hearing only bad news and seeing depressing images about Africa. A generation that had no idea of how beautiful, how prosperous, how lush and green and how rich culturally and materially Africa was in the past and easily could be in the future if only it found proper leadership. A generation that grew up with foreign nurseries, foreign music, foreign clothing and foreign perspectives of their homeland. A generation that had no experience of sitting in a Somali theatre and listening to “Habeen iyo dharaar, hadaladaan dhisnaa, Afkeena hooyo oo horumaraan, ku hoos caweynaynaa, Hagaaajinaa, had iyo jeer hagnaa, ma hagranee, waan u hawl galnaa' the customary choral theme of Somali artists written by the renowned playwright Hassan Sheikh Mumin Gorod as part of his immortal play ‘Shabeel Naagood – Leopard among the women'. A generation that never had the opportunity to hear a mother or grandmother singing to them traditional Somali children songs such as: “Roobow waa, dhiishaydaa, muska taallaa, biyo maahee, waa caanee, ii buuxi, ii buuxi, riyo dararis, adhi dararis, geel dararis…' Or “Reerka guuraaya, ee galab carraabaaya, ee dhoobo gaadhayaa, ee dhebei ku toosaaya, reerka guuraaya…” Nursery rhymes which apart from their rhythmic, musical and imagery richness, are educative and reflect the lifestyle of the Somali nomad which depends on rain, water and milk as well as his reliance on movement in pursuit of grazing areas and good weather. It is such songs that make a lasting impression on the tender mind of growing children and give them a memory treasure that gives them direction and sense of identity later in life. Being lucky to have got the chance to teach these songs to my son, I can see how his face lights up, even in his teenage years, when we sometimes remember them and sing together. Although, he is not yet fortunate enough to see Africa, I can imagine what kind of images these rhymes conjure up in his mind. Most likely an image of Africa of his own. I find it befitting here to quote a paragraph of an old writing of mine, lamenting such loss of identity: “…it is not only the politico-economical situation that has degenerated to these horrible ends, but the centuries-old culture of Africa is also disappearing at an alarming rate. The new generations no longer understand the legendary language of the African Drum. The history-moulded traditional folklore dances have become obsolete; and western hypnotized minds of the young intellectuals no longer listen to what they consider the primitive and superstitious folk tales of the Ayeeyo (grandmother) and the hyperbolical stories of the Oday (Griot). This has produced a multitude of youth who have lost self respect and all sense of national pride. Their eyes are mesmerized by the dazzling lights of New York, Paris and Montreal. Their ears seek consolation in the albums of Michael Jackson, Madonna and Whitney Houston, and their skin is itching for the fashion designs of Christian Dior and House of Chanel. They are Africans in look, but are Americans, Europeans, Australians, and Canadians in-waiting. They want to escape from the Big Refugee Camp, which is Africa, to become roaming refugees in the streets of the vast cities of the west. To live as parasites on the extra fat of the western economy as I so humbly expressed in my poem “Afrikaay Warlaay” – Introduction, Awdal Phenomenon, 1989. Despite this linguistic tragedy and cultural bankruptcy, the event was not completely without luster. It had its rewarding and inspiring moments. Ebyan Ladane Salah, a visiting Canadian doctoral candidate of Somali-origin, has uplifted the morale of the youth, the majority of whom were her womenfolk, by narrating her personal odyssey in search of education. Not only did she impress the audience by the determination and hard work she manifested to reach her goal, but also by her self-confidence and her eloquence in the Somali language, thus breathing a fresh life into the nerves of the elderly audience benumbed by the bombardment of the Arabic language and by setting a shining example for not only being a highly educated mother but also a lucid speaker who can snap out lines of Somali poetry and anecdotes. She received the greatest applause when she quoted the following lines from an old poem written by Osman Yusuf Kenadid in 1945, illustrating that given the same opportunities, girls were as capable as boys. “..Hadday gabari waagii beryaba, Wax u eg yeelayso Wareeggaa ku ceeb ehe hadday,Weligeed diidayso Wargeyska iyo Raadyaha hadday, Wada aqoonayso, Maxaa wiilku dheer yahay hadday, Wadato hawsheeda…” I could see the delight on Ali Sugule's face and I myself couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief like receiving reassuring news from a doctor on the health of a patient assumed to be critically ill. Even Ebyan's condescending apology to the audience for her Somali language not being perfect, could not spoil Ali Sugule's joy who promptly repudiated her for uttering such sardonic mea culpa. Ebyan said that she went to Canada with a mission – to acquire knowledge and she did. She narrated a story of an elderly man she and her folks had met on their way to North America. Seeing their enthusiasm for going to the land of milk and honey as he thought they assumed at the time, he asked them: “Are you going to North America?” “Yes,” they answered in a tone not bereft of pride. “Well,” he sighed with a sense of pain, “ listen, you will go to North America, you will find freedom, you will go to clubs, you will learn drugs and you will end up as drop outs, the scum of the society.” “No, we will not, we are going to study and make a good future for ourselves” said Ebyan and her folks. “ This is my address,” he said in a voice of defiance and challenge, “ call me after five or so years and let me know how your life turns up.” Ebyan said that she had remembered the man's challenge and having his address in hand she called him after 10 years. She reminded him of their encounter, which he remembered, and she told him of her progress and that she earned her post graduate degree. This was a moment of joy and encouragement for the youth in the audience and was received with a standing ovation. Ebyan's story called to mind lines of a poem I wrote in 1984, in which I forewarned a friend, a woman by coincidence, who was going to the United States that the aim of her sojourn should be one to fulfill her longing for education and should not be wasted on transient luxuries: “…Aniguba tabaaladan mar dhow, Waan ka tegayaaye Tacliin meesha lagu sheegay iyo, Qalin tawaadiisa Tiriigaa ka baxayaan Oroob, Tiigso leeyahaye …Texas baan u jeednaa dhammaan, Toorantiyo Boone Waxan tiigsanaynaana waa, Rugo tacliineede Tumasho uma jeedniyo inaan, Tooxinaa Yurube Himilada ku taagnow intay, Talo hagaageyso.” Another heartwarming story of success was told by a lady, Zahra Jama Saleh, who said that she had worked hard to educate herself without going to the west. She said she had taken executive secretarial courses and had landed covetous jobs in reputable companies. Not satisfied with only working, she said she had perfected her English language and as a result had written her first book which was about to be published. “…Nin deeqba haween leh baan ahay, haddana dafiraaya baan ahay, dabeecado jaanle baan ahay…” It was also rather ironic and painful at the same time to hear a young man expressing the plight of his generation in a halting Somali. In a spirit of defiance and patriotic determination to use his mother tongue albeit with great difficulty, he rejected seeking refuge into either Arabic or English. Through torturous but thought provoking moments, he struggled, stuttered, mumbled and finally managed to convey his message. Saying that after he graduated from high school, his only ambition was to migrate to North America. And to quote him verbatim, he said “I had it in my mind that I had to reach North America. By air, by land, be sea, doesn't matter. My only aim and ambition was to reach North America. I went there and saw the reality was quite different from what I had imagined. I had to return to the UAE. I am now here with my mother and have made my life. I realized that one doesn't have to be in North America to make a decent living. One can make life anywhere if one strives for it.” Several of the honored girls had also enlivened the audience with burgeoning patriotism and longing for their homeland. One of them commented that she imbibed the love of the motherland from her mother's breast. The most testing and anguishing statement to the audience and particularly to a group of Somali medical doctors who were there to lecture about the benefits of education, came from one girl who said “ you are all telling us to learn and acquire knowledge and skills. You are telling us that our country needs us, and we know that we cannot go home. Do we have to work all our lives for other people?” Finding this as a slap in the face, the doctors decided to pass the buck by delegating the answer to Hussein Abokor, the most elderly man in the crowd and also the Chairman of the Somali Community in Sharjah, who tried in vain to mitigate the guilt that the older people and the doctors had felt before the eyes of the younger generation. If I try to sum up the mood of the night, I can say it was one of hope rather than despair, an ending of the long wait for the beautiful dawn as I have written in one of my poems in 1999: “Dalkaygow wallaahiye Warwarkiyo waxyeeladu Cidna lama walaaloo Qofna weerka dhiilada Wehel looma siiyoo Kuma waaro ciilkee; Waxad wayda haysaba Waagii dhawaayoo Walaacani ku haystiyo Walbahaarku wuu tegi; Wallee maalin dhow waqal Weelka loo dareershiyo War caloosha deeqoo Gaajada badh wiiqoo Wadnaha ii qaboojiyo Weedh aan ku diirsado Waayeelka hirarkiyo Ababshaha wardoonkiyo BBCiidu way werin…” Looking in the eyes of the aspiring and outstanding high school graduates, I kept pondering whether these were the future forces that would liberate our homeland, and the whole of Africa in that matter, from its current doom. Once again, I may have been covertly passing the blame, but there is no way one can be pessimistic before the powerful appetite of youth for life and change. And once again I found myself humming lines from another poem of mine, written in 1984: “…Dirirka bilan waayey Hadhuudhka ka baaqday Qaxootiga baahay Bishiishin xumaanta; Hayaayda baxaysa Bacaadka la jiifo Harraad bakhtigeena Bariis heli waaga; Balaayo halkeede; Dadaalka bilowday Barbaarta kacaysa Baajuuri xambaarka Tacliin bismilaynta Wixii balageena Baraaq jabinaaya Baddaan ka galaaye; Biciidku dhankiisa Qofkuu ka baxaayo Bakayle qaleenku Bahdeenaba maaha..” It is not without a feeling of melancholy, however, that I have to leave this piece of writing, knowing that none of the young girls and boys who were present that stimulating evening would understand the slew of verses I have quoted above. I may have to invite them though to a moment of reflection that, as they all had bluntly expressed with their youthful honesty, it is only by learning their own language and working hard to perfect it that they would be able to overcome their identity crisis. It is the language and the wisdom it enshrines that heals people, gives them hope and makes them soar in beautiful dreams at times of despair. It is only in our beautiful language that we can get our bearings when we are lost. It is our language that can mitigate our pain, soothe our fears and welcome us to weep in its lap and not anywhere else. I have to admit though that given the place and circumstances in which they grew up, our children did their part and did it well and with proper parental guidance they surely will also excel in learning their culture and language. All that we need to do as parents is to remind them over and over again “Af Qalaad aqoontu miyaa? Maya…Maya..” Bashir Goth SOURCE

They are pushover trust me, if you have what it takes and know which buttons to push you can get away with a lot. I assume you don't need no introduction to their good looks

Wlc sis Tammy What a wonderful blog you have there. Even isakbolo men can give it a go now. Doesn’t “Isku-dhex karis” qualify as a Somali dish? I reckon it is the easiest one to cook. LOOL @ FETA7 MUUS…now I know why they called it “foto muus”, it is very delicious I was told but the name will definitely put you off at first.

^^that was an open goal, couldn't resist ?..as for Osman, meesh wuu ku cusubyahey but not to worry he will get tired of it sooner or later.

^^ ossmanow..you shot yourself in the foot mate, there is nothing humorous about being a monkey

Originally posted by NASSIR: I recommend this new book. It's written by an Afghani historian and professor. A great book and it quite challenges the conventional wisdom. Destiny Disrupted: History of the World through Islamic Eyes By Tamim Ansary It is an interesting read indeed; why not add it to Duke’s book club thread thanks for sharing though. On a different note, this is the second author of Afghanistani origin that I have come to appreciate as of late. The first is Khaled Husseni the author of the “The Kite Runner”.

Originally posted by osman_nz: Las Geel Cave Painting In hargeisa Infact my ancestor was so shocked at the behaviour of these people in this area, he even climbed a tree to get away from it and then realized he had duty from Allah that he must teach these people civilization and that is when he came down from the tree ^^ friendly fire, eh…you monkey boy

Originally posted by BORN_BRANIAC: here are some of the books i read and suggest ppl to read. A Thousand Splendid Suns ( Khalid Hussieni) Chronicle of a Death Foretold by Gabriel Garcia Marquez ( Gabriel Marquez) The Kite Runner ( Khalid Hussieni) The House of the Spirits (Isabel Allende) All These books are Fiction ^^Good list of books sis. kite Runner is the book to read.

Not many people in the ME trust this guy including this zionist nutjob

source Dhaaaaalaaaaaaaaaaaa aaala, dhalalalaaaaaaaaaam, dhaaaaaaaalmam. • Xogheynta Shiriifka : Hello, Salama Caleykum • Sh.Hasan Aweys: Adeer Galaadu salaanta xaq uma uma laha ee ma jooga Ninkii murtidka ahaa, ee ridoobey • Xogheynta: Adeer cid murtida ahi halkan ma joogto ee yaad rabtaa. • Sh.D.Aweys : Adeer ma la hadli karaa ninka aad M/weynaha ku shegeysaan ee Muslinka ka weecday. • Xogheynta : Madaxweyne nin dagaalansan baa ku raba. • Sh.Shiriif: Salaama Caleykum Akhii waa kuma!!. • Sh.H.Aweys : Waar shiriif Salaanta islaamka ha yeerin, sowtaad muslinka ka baxdey. • Sh.Shiriif : Waan ku gartey inaad Saxiibkeygii Sh.Hasan Dahir tahey, walaal aniga Islaamnimo ma ka bixin, ee ma laga yabaa in adigu adgu qarda jeexdey ama aad dayaysan tahey, hada maxaad ii soo wacdey, sow maad go`aamin in Muqdisho iyo Koonurta Somalia dhiigii daadanayey ee aan is lahaa jooji, uu halkii ka sii socdo. • Sh.H.Aweys : Anigu Mujaahid Alla yaqaana oo xaq wada ayaan ahaa, hadana aan ahey. Adigaa na khiyaamey oo gaalada raacey, hadana waxaan kuu soo wacey in hadhow intii la dhihi lahaa nin baa la diley aad meesha iskaga cararto ciidakeena Mujaahidiinta ahi dhawaan waa soo galayaan Madaxtooyada. Dhiiguna wuu daadanaya inta ujeedadeena aan gaareyno insha Allah. • Sh.Shiriif: Ina Daahir Aweysow labadeenu weynu is ognahey, waxan dadka caamada aad ugu sheekeynasana weynu isla garananeynaa, walaalow maad qunyar iska dhahdid, kursiga ii banee waan u dhimanaya si looga fogaado dhiiga barbaarta Somaliyeed oo qubta iyo maatida barakaceysa. Nin dad maata ah oo muslina hoobiya ku garaacaya oo hadana leh Muslin baan ahey, mujaahidiina waan wataa adiga hortaa lama arag. • Sh.H.Aweys : Shiriifow adiga waxoogey waa run waa is ognahey, lakiin wixii aynu isku ogeyn sow adiga maad ka bixin, oo kursigii aan idin dhahey waar walaalow hadee aniga reer Gaalkacayo ahe ha la ii daayo, marka uu Cabdilaahi Yusuf tago, sow intaad dustey maad aayar ku fariisan , oo imaanad daba marteynin. Sidii ku heshiin karaa oo dhiig loo joojin karaa anigoo aan Madaxweyen noqon. • Sh.Shiriif : Haa waad nagu dhahdey lakiin sow ma ogid in adigu aad macangag aheyd oo markii aan ku dhahey, aynu miiska wadahadalka fariisano oo Abdilahi Yusuf iyo Xabishadana dalka ha laga saaro sidaana aan dhulkeena, Somalida Koonfureed ee colaada, Barakaca iyo abaaruhu ay dileen aynu ugu talino, sow maanad diidin oo maad dhihin, Asmara iyo Erateria oo Xabashi 2 ah, oo teedii u qiil la aynu iska dhex joogno. Markaa ayaan anigu tashadey oo aan ku dhaqaaqey in aan xalka meel kale ka doono • Sh.H.Aweys : Hadee walaalow Shiriif, waa laga yabaa in markii aad wada hadalka gashey aad sax aheyd balse waxaad khaldantey markii aad ogaaltey in adiga M.Weyne laguu doorto. • Sh.Shiriif : Maxaan ku khaldamey Ina Dahir Aweysow, sow koley meesha ninuun M/weyne kamuu nodeen. • Sh.H.Aweys : Hadee waxaad ku khaldantey waxey aheyd inaad tiraahdo Duqa Sheikh Hassan Aweys ee Asamara jooga ayaa kursigaa jecel ee ha loo daayo, oo dawlada inteeda kale ha la dhiso. Maanta dhiigaasi muu daateen. Alshaababkan iyo nimankan hada saaxiibka ku nahey in adiga lagu rido markaa meel ay markeen lama arkeen. Inkastoo hadaba aan ka cabsi qabo in dhexdayada ay ka qarxdo. Waxaan ka cabsi qabaa in Marka uu Afewerki i soo waco, ay dhahaan ` Gaal baa ku soo wacey dabadeed waad gaalowdey` • Sh.Shiriif : Waar Sheikh Hassan kursigan Xaga rabi ayaa laga qoraa, anigana weligey isma dhihin M/weyen noqo, dhiigna maan ku daadina, hadadana dalka ayaan rabaa in aad badbaadiyo, marka adiga diintan iyo Jihaadku waa kaa afka baarkiisa ee Kurisgan ayuun baad rabtaa, adiga mooyee cidii kale ee ku fariisatana waa gaalo murtidiin ah. Alshaababna waad ogtey in hadii aad dawlada rido in markaa sheekadinu aynu noqoneyso labadii dhurwaa ee Libaaxa raqda ka eryay ee dabeed ay dhexdooda ka qaraxdey. Hada maxaad xalka u aragtaa, dagaalka se ma joojineysa, oo dawlada ma soo raceysa • Sh.Hasan Aweys : Shiriifow nin aad kursigisii aad ku fadhido xalka lagama warsado , xalkana adiga ayaa haya, dhiiga Somalida ee dadaadanayana anigu ninkii kowaad ee daadiya ma ihi,raga iiga horeeyey waad garansyaa:- Siyaad Bare, Caydiid, Cali Mahdi, Cabdilaahi Yusuf, Yalaxow, Maxamed dheere, Moorgan gar dheere, Bare Hiiraale, Indhacadahan muslinka nasakhan ah iyo qaar kale oo badan, markaa mar hadii la joogo xiligii aan anigu ugu jaaniska fiicana dagaalku wuu soconaya inta Mujaahidiintu ay kursiga igu hubsanayaan. • Sheikh Shariif : Aweysow Ragaa aad sheegtey, Shiikhyo iyo diin midna mey sheegan jirin,ajanabi Afka duubteyna maatida Somaliyeed kumey karbaashi jirin, adigu maxaa diidaya hadii aad dhahdo Kursigaan rabaa ha la iigu dhinto. • Sh.H.Aweys: kkkkkkkk. Shirifow filimkan Shiekha iyo Mujaahidka ayaa imika socda, hadii aan dhaho Kursigaan wax ku dilayaa Mujaahidinta Qaadka cuneysa , dagaalkuna wuu karaar jabaya, markaa adiguba kurisga waxaad ku heshay Shiikh Qunyar Socad ah , anigu Shiikh xoog u socda ayaan ahey waxaa inoo balana Villa Somalia. Ama Afircan u yeero ama Reer Galbeed u yeedho ama Carab u yeero ama Mududool oo dhan u yeero kursigaa ku fadhiyi maysid. Mida kale Ajanabiga Afka duuban waxba ha dhihin adba African fuq waaweyn ayaa ku waardiyeeya • Sh.Shiriif: Ina Daahir Aweysow, rag hadii uu caaro dhuubta isla dhaco ninkastaa cidii uu doonayo ha u yeerto ee adiguna ama Daaliban u yeero ama Carab u yeero ama qaar diintu jiidhey u yeero, ama Indha Cade ha yiraahdo waleekeen oo Muslina ayaan hubkii ku wareejiyey, waxaanse kuu sheegaya wadadii saxaabiinkagii reer Galkacayo ee Cabdilaahi Yusuf marey ayaa ku huran ama meydkaaga Muqdisho la jiidjiid. Aniga Africanka i waardiyeeya Dal baa soo direy oo ay ka yimaadeen. Waxaase cajiiba nin Afka duuban oo dalkii uu ka yimid aan la garaneynin oo carruutaadii iyo maatidaadii qixinaya. Misana ku leh Muslin khaalisa oo diin iyo xaq ku taagan ayaan ahey. Aweysow wixii dhaca waa adiga iyo kuwaa afka duuban dumadiina.

Originally posted by Jacaylbaro: [Q] This is a difficult responsibility to embrace. For human history has often been a record of nations and tribes subjugating one another to serve their own interests. Yet in this new age, such attitudes are self-defeating. Given our interdependence, any world order that elevates one nation or group of people over another will inevitably fail. So whatever we think of the past , we must not be prisoners of it. [/Q] What past? Load of crap really

Where I reside this is not a common problem, it is Strange you said this about the Somali people, just today me and a friend were talking about how dignified the Somalis are even though most have it tough. Think about the single mum who still sends money back home while looking after her kids all by herself. Think about the dad who is doing a 12 hour shift in a bakery s/where or working as a taxi driver all night long. Think about the hardworking young Somali man who idolises Churchill and spends most of his time posting silly videos on youtube <--joke But, if you are referring to teenagers then you could be right or may be these are the ones you termed “Somali euro trash”.

^^ nin wareersan, I like your posts when you are not talking about technolog. Sxb DON NOT mix the tech with the lemon kush, they don't go together.

^^very well said yaa sabriay. If those girls manage to change for the better than they I have earned their new reputation and most people will respect them for that. It is the change bit that is tough. Personally I wouldn’t hold anything like that against a Somali sister so long she changes, and yes anybody can change.

Ilaahey ha u anxariisto.amiiiin

Rudy wouldn't probably mind s/one saying the same thing to his sister, waar xishood ninyow

Imagine if he was still the foreign minster of yeey and they ruled all of Somalia, I reckon he would have had a different take on this matter. The way I see it, Jaamac Yare and Sifir are both men of principle in comparison with Buubaa. In particular jaamac yare has far more integrity than a lot of politicians in s/land today judging by his opposition to abdullahi yusuuf and the fact that he actually believes in s.weyn and sticks to it unlike buubaa says a lot about the guy. Buubaabana is a typical nomad who is always looking for a greener pasture, for him, the south offers nothing today hence this interview..nin aan aqaaney wuxu odhan lahaa waa diinal al-fuluus..

Originally posted by Johnny B: [Q] ^Atheer, 'gaalad' waan kaa qaathan karnaa, laakin ayan ma weyna,waase maskax weyntahay, anigaas ayaa intaan gacana ku xambaray gacana cell-phoneka kaga jawaabay. waaku sidee atheer? mise mid dhimatoo miskuhu dibada yaalaan ayaad xodxodasho ugu dartaa? [/Q] Johnniyow sheekudu hadey cell phone gaadhey hadaa waad iiga war roontahey. waar sadaqo ayaa show kugu baxdey, lakiin karatega ayey taqaana markaa iska ilaali yaaney macawusta madax kuugu duubine As for Tariq, I think he is not really qualified to speak on these matters. The media often paints people like tariq as the acceptable face of “moderate” muslims. Xaji the quraaan might cover many topics but it does so in a way that is appealing to the billion or so muslims around the world, they draw strength from its interpretation and it helps them to believe in the unseen. Imagine a one dimensional creature that vehemently denies the existence of any birds. This creature can only translate along the x-axis of the Cartesian coordinate system; it can not see nor can it sense what is above or below it. Hence it assumes that there is no any other creature that can translate along the y-axis, in fact, it doesn’t even believe in the existence of that other axis. Now, this is the case of those who doubt the existence of God. They just assume things..…so be careful yaa xaji

tanag u bro. these kind of sheekos soften the heart wallahi. Originally posted by Zulfa: [Q] 2. Why he didn't give her one eye only and keep the other one.. :rolleyes: anyway, lesson is learnt: neva donate eyez ... [/Q] or any other body organs for dat matter

^ what do these two have in common yaa murridi? :confused: zionism, somalia's mythology nad poetry.

You might not agree with her but at least you know where she stands on the issue. It is just beyond me how Tariq Ramadan who is supposed to be teaching at oxbridge fails miserably to reply to her over-exaggerated accusations. It was as if he was telling the audience that he agrees with Ayan but has a different way of doing things and he doesn't want to be rejected like her by the muslims. Well, by definition that what you call a munaafiq, Ayan may not be one but she is definitely gaalad weynaatey

8 mill viewers is quite a number, cadaanka yaa bacda ka furi bal Btw who said 25% of the belgium population are muslims .. there is no way that could be true. The challenge has been set for us muslims in the so called 'Western world' but do you think we can reach the target fertility rate of 8.1 ? what does it stand for, dou have to round it up? if that is the case, it is not much really ... only 8 kids. Average somali family is probably 10. I don't know about the new generation though. People are learning about birth control, waa la il baxey