d/p

Che -Guevara;894216 wrote: Dear Alpha, let us know how hell feels like. Che, unless you are trolling the troll (Alpha), take it easy on the guy sxb. Worse things have been done/said.

AB waxyaabo aan laga xaraabaysan la iskuna maakubin ayaa jira. Ilaahay u towbad celi for your own sake.

Chimera bro I understand what you are saying and have taken it on board. Chimera;894022 wrote: Oday, one can marry a non-Somali and still be part of the Somali world, otherwise millions of Somali kids wouldn't feel inspired by the likes of Mo Farah and Rageh Omaar with their foreign spouses, and their Somali identities are firmly intact. sxb you don't know these people on a personal level and just because they are high-profile does not mean we should see them as the norm or even take their stories for their face value. I agree that the Somali indentity of Mo and Rageh on an individual level is intact, but the part of their identity that a Somali wife and children would have contributed is lacking nonetheless. Chimera;894022 wrote: Yes its nice to have a son or a daughter that looks like you, I have expressed that sentiment for years on SOL but you will love a half Somali child just as much even if you can't process the thought today. I certainly couldn't until I mentored a 11 year old half Somali half English girl, and she is more Somali in classic manner and culture than a lot of the characters on this forum by far, its those kind of children who didn't choose their parents that you are ostracising and denying the chance to join the Somali world, they can be a great asset. I try not to ostracise anyone from the Somali community. I understand the importance of inclusion and have learnt the negative consequences and the wretchedness of discrimination. I welcome them and nobody can deny them their God-given Somali identity, heritage and DNA - I should have made that more clear in my last post. We have no right to decide who is Somali and who is not in so far as denying people their heritage. A person is as Somali as they feel or want to be. I do however encourage Somali-Somali marriages, may they prosper and multiply. Chimera;894022 wrote: The country is recovering, and if it taps into its potential and massive resources it will be a prosperous place, and those kind of places attract immigrants like in the prewar period, which means Somalis will mix with those communities, as they did historically and which are still evident in the coastal cities of the South, though not on a large scale. Still their choices should be respected, and this will not be the case for as long as the Somali identity is based xenophobia be it clan or ethnicity. Chimera;894022 wrote: Its a bit grand to to think our pure Somali children will be the ones tipping the scales towards a large Somali nation. The Somali population with or without us will still be 40 million in a few decades, a 100 million in 2100, so no need to put all that weight on your shoulders. I meant that to have Somali children, irrespective of number, completes your identity. Personally I would have no more than 2-3 kids, more than that is too much stress, qaylo (IMO). Chimera;894022 wrote: If you want to marry Somali sister, that's cool as my own train is close to reaching that destination and I consider them second to none, but please don't base your decision on something superficial, you will still be a Somali man who can teach his kids dhaqanka Soomaalida and deenta Islaamka without forcing yourself into something or losing your identity. Valid point and I agree but its all personal choice bro. Chimera;894022 wrote: Somali + Somali marriages don't neccesarily result in a concrete Somali identity amongst their children . They might be successful in life on multiple levels be it academics, sports and business, but there are still hundreds of thousands of pure Somali men and women today struggling with their ancestral language, culture and are busy catching up, including me. Long story short and cliche as hell; if it feels right, your on the right path Thats true.

Yes Apo. Cheers everyone for your input. Esp. Aaliyyah, Chimera, Juxa, Apo, Blue and Wadani.

Narniah;893892 wrote: Double standards, plain n simple. The reason they don't mind their sons marrying non-Somalis is cause the kids they produce according to them (will still carry the Somali Fathers tribe ...Whereas a woman can't? Ignore that nonsense. DNA, physical appearance and cultural input of a non-Somali mother + a non-Somali upbringing trumps any stories about qabil and clan that for those in the diaspora has little relevcnce in their lives. Some people are still holding on to a mindset from a long-gone era. People nowadays are who they want to be and not who their father, or mother for that matter, is. But that is not to say that those children cannot choose to fully engange and embrace the Somali half of their identity - its up to the children the extent to which they are/will be Somali.

More than community loyalty I would say this is more about sense of personal identity. Dating and perhaps marrying a non-somali, and in future perhaps have half-somali children would be to destroy your Somali identity. Because you family (spouse, children) are an extention of you, to have a non-somali spouse and half-Somali children means to only be part-Somali and to be lacking in the parts that would complete/seal your being Somali... Identity does not mean to only have come forth from the Somali nation, but also to bring forth the next Somali generation and contributed to it, rather than 'run' away and 'be' something else (mixed race family or whatever not). It would be to choose to live with non-Somalis or in other words not live with Somalis for the remainder of one's life. It would be to have a non-Somali wife; to have non-Somali children with non-Somali grandparents, cousins, uncles, aunts etc. It would mean becoming part-Somali. The allure of being a pure Somali is far greater. Non-Somalis are too strange and alien - culturally, linguistically, physically, religiously and culinarily - from us.

OdaySomali;893492 wrote: What are the criteria by which we are judging? No response?... even from the OP. I vote Wyre.

This one is shocking and gone too fa.r

Taleexi;893853 wrote: Waa Taleexi, what's up sxb? Spill the beans.

Apophis;893878 wrote: Thank you; I would love a crazy wife; definitely won't be a dull moment. Be careful what you wish for haha, walahi i've seen some crazies, funny ish but not something you want to deal with on a daily basis. Especially an angry crazy chick

Alpha Blondy;893849 wrote: do shed light on these developments. She is a devout muslim. So my dilemma is do I give her a chance and see where it goes or do I say "sorry, reserved for a Xalimo" (I know the xalimos on here will love the sound of that last part haha ). Wadani;893847 wrote: This girl must be truely exceptional if she has u entertaining the thought. We say what we say but if the girl is a beauty, who happens to also be muslim and of good character, just non-Somali, what do you say.. you'd at least give it a thought or see where it goes. But if she is average or below average then its much easier to decide. Or if she is gaalo then it is as in the video below

My initial answer is no and in the past realistically I would not have seen any prospect of doing such a thing. But life is unpredictable and fluid and because of a new development ive got a choice to make. But it does sound very bigotted to tell someone that they are not the right race. I say Somalis for Somalis.

It is not like Odaysomali to start such topics but: To the male but also female members, would you consider a non-Somali person for dating/marriage? Could you see yourself with a non-Somali spouse? If yes why? If not, why not?

I thought this was an interesting read. Most of the descriptions of FOB phases are quite accurate. :eek: Phase 1: The Optimistic Pessimist Fully frustrated with the situation at home, and mesmerized by the promise of an automatically better life in the west, the Optimistic Pessimist is a perplexing FOB. The OP is usually still in their home country and preparing, by all means, to get the **** out. Because their home country is, among all things, frustrating, that have created a paradox in their mind where everything evil in humanity that frustrates them is in one bucket, and everything wonderful in life is in another. The first bucket includes their home country, the second bucket includes any and every other country. These tokens are liquid in nature and stew together to the point that home country = bad = rape = robbery = poverty = crime =poverty = erectile dysfunction = being a loser = balding = weight gain = hell. and target country is another monolithic stew linking all good things in life. When speaking to these FOBs it's impossible to get a reality based assessment of anything, and they seldom have a strategy for success once they get to the target country because getting there is success enough. Phase 2: The Fascinated Optimist The fascinated Optimist is the one we typically call "the FOB". It should be noted that this is simply a phase in the FOB journey. The fascinated optimist, now in heaven, must rapidly, and forcefully rid himself of his hellish home grown nature. The deep fascination with the new world they find themselves in is often overwhelming, and in a dash to rapidly become a part of the new human shangri la the fascinated optimist is a creature on a mission. The fascinated optimist is highly likely to become 1. A Pervert: Believing that having sex with women = good =america, the fascinated optimist developed a feverish fixation with all the rancid stray *** the west has to offer. The fascinated optimist typically dwells in the dark corners of clubs and is a nocturnal hunger who uses his glowing yellow eyeballs to provide light when staring at woman's sexual parts. This reckless obsession with sex makes the fascinated optimist an avid hunter, a lover of 'fly undersized designer gear', and a general 'creep' that will degrade the standing of the men from their country in the eyes of the local women 2. A hypocrite: A supplement to their obsession with sex and free to perv at a mind blowing velocity, the Fascinated Optimist believes every other man is as much of a hedonist pervert as he is, and suddenly the women he cares about become victims of a sex dungeon he calls 'culture'. The culture he teaches his daughters, girlfriend etc if they're from his home country is simple: DON'T BE A SLUT. With slut meaning talking to men. Outside of sex they usually teach their children that their culture is simple: BE A LAWYER, BE A DOCTOR, YOU'RE WORTHLESS IF YOU DON'T MAKE MONEY. Most of their children born in diaspora understand their culture to be: DONT HAVE SEX, MAKE MONEY. It should be noted that the FO's parents, seldom, and most importantly, never, put any pressure on them to make money. In fact the fixation with material wealth is born by the fact that the frustration of the original OP the FO evolved from comes from the fact that the OP themselves are vein, greedy, materialistic, megalomaniac, narrow sighted people that are easily frustrated and highly prone to unreasonable levels of materialistic jealousy. The children in diaspora are often surprised when they go to their 'home country' and find that people are humble, simple and easy going as is the universal constant in the third world. 3. A Hater: Because the FO believes that America is 'for everyone' They begin to customize their 'place' in the American hierarchy. The FO is very....verrrryy prone to hating African Americans. This is simply because they see that they're at the bottom of the American totem-pole and believe that if they separate themselves by force from this group they won't occupy the same position. The FO in their feverish race to the top becomes hateful and jealous of many groups, most importantly those most like them because life is a competition. Nevertheless the groups least like them, typically white people, can do no wrong, because they wish to occupy the same position in the totem-pole as these people. 4. A Liar: As the realities of America begin to dawn, the FO still has a chip on their shoulder that can't be ignored. The FO believing that America and their country are lands where people are measured for and by materialism and status, becomes an avid liar. The FO will tell anyone anything they feel will make that person respect them. The fallacy in this thinking is that Americans aren't impressed by status, and Europeans even less concerned. Their country men born in the west know that buying expensive things is possible for anyone as long as your irresponsible and dumb, and their fellow FOs will only get jealous and hateful at their 'success'. FOs will lie about their origins, their income, their name, their living situation, their sexual encounters, their associates and affiliations, and they will speak in a fake and forced accent (to be addressed later). FOs fail to realize real westerners don't and won't care but it doesn't matter to the FO because the FO lives in a status obsessed materialistic delusional thought whirlpool that must be feed a steady stream of monkey-like prostrations and gimmicks Note: The fake accent or 'dying down' of their original accent is the dead give away. For all FOs reading, this should be understood. IF YOU'RE IN A COUNTRY AFTER PUBERTY YOU WILL NEEVVEEERR LOSE YOUR ACCENT. NEEVVEEEEERR. ITS SCIENTIFICALLY IMPOSSIBLE AND AS MUCH AS YOU THINK YOU'RE SPEAKING 'LIKE US' YOU STILL DONT CANT AND WONT. You shouldn't. We don't care how you speak, only you do. Accents in the west will get you respect, *****, friends, adoration, and the attention you crave. No American or European has ever respected someone for sounding like them. You're the only person alive that cares. Phase 3: The Late Bus Activist. The Late Bus Activist is the final phase of fobbity. The FOB after realizing that geographic location has nothing to do with human happiness suddenly becomes the beaming promoter of their original country and culture. This usually happens after xenophobia, racism, and the realities of the west crash down on the FOB and they realize that they're not among friends. At this phase the Late Bus Activist is usually lonely, not as 'successful' as they had wished to be, and going through a genetic mid life crisis. They suddenly begin debating 'visiting' their home country more often. They're concerned with the 'americanness' of their children, and their relationship is falling apart because they no longer hold the 3rd world wield over their increasingly independant wife as they used to. The LBA suddenly hates white people. The LBA is more tolerant of African Americans and realizes they were 'right the whole time'. The LBA hates his co-workers, goes from job to job despite an advanced degree, and is liable to do wild off the wall baller shit. Buying overtly expensive cars, buying a new home, traveling more, and trying to cope with their depression with attempting to have sex with younger women despite marriage. The LBA is neither a fan of their own culture nor the western culture but becomes a preacher of the evils of the west. The LBA can be heard uttering late bus *** realizations such as ".... This country is not good..." " In my country we buy everything with CASH, Americans think they're rich but they need a loan to buy everything! My country is rich!" "In this country everyone is stressed out, In my country ________" "Back home children ___________" "When i was back home ___________" "In (Africa/Asia) if you did this _______________" Usually touting that their home country is a place of superior order, superior morals, superior human sentiment, and superior common sense. This is all a lie. People in their home countries are just as foolish as people in the west and don't know wtf the LBA is talking about. His delusional belief in the superior sensibilities of his home country give him a sense of importance. Realizing that he won't be shit in the west, because the west is designed to make sure nobody is shit, the LBA becomes a late bus appreciator of everything that isn't his current condition. The end the cycle of suffering the FOB must realize one important thing. Geographic location and materials will never determine happiness. Unhappiness is normally born from the belief that the world, or in the FOBs case, your life, isn't as it should be. When you begin tying your emotions to geographic locations you're tying your well being to a branch headed down stream. The source of your unhappiness is the fact that you live in your head. Your perception of reality is based on an appreciation of life as it 'should be' and a stark inability to appreciate life as it is. Also, the race for 'status' will always be a race to your own doom. You will come to find that nobody cares, and somebody will always out do you, you have little control over your fate, and people aren't 'better' than others. Begin living in the real world and not in your head and the cycle of self depreciation is twarted. Odds are only the FOBs at the final phase will understand what i'm talking about. The remainder will dismiss me because the FOB lives in a delusion and doesn't appreciate anyone interrupting it, especially someone from the west.

Apophis;893551 wrote: In what way?? The sad state and hopelessness of the place. The mindset of the people. Where I said: I was, to say the least, overwhelmed and daunted by the amount of work that my homeland apparently needed to bring it up to standard; at the time it seemed like and impossible and improbable target. I was also immeasurably angry with the divisions and divisiveness, with the disagreeability embedded into the very fabic of the political elite.

Saxansaxo;893546 wrote: Interesting read, It makes one feel homesick. Did you go to miyiga? If so how was your experience there? I drove out into the country-side but did not venture into the mii.

What you lack in natural "talent" and ascribed status, make up for in effort and discipline.

Apophis;893526 wrote: I have enjoyed your report; it's well written and enjoyable. Cheers. War iga daa meeshaa. It broke my heart and damaged my spirit. Ku dar intaas inay dadkeenu badankoodu cawaan yihiin, Previousy ive said: When you feel so strongly about something that you literally think about it day and night. When it is the first thing on your mind when you wake up in the mornings. When it pops into your mind even when you are engaged in other things. When you make plans in your mind about it even though you are far removed from it. When it is in relation to all other things, at the very centre of your cognitive being. It can be hard to ignore it. The never fading obsession that is lodged in my heart... I have always been interested in politics and business more than your average person. However, over the past couple of years this has taken a certain Somali spin to it. Faced even in the western media with an avalanche of coverage and information about Somalia [and its politics] I have found myself drawn to it. More than anything, I have become concerned with (no, obsessed with) the current [somali] state of affairs. Having grown up with virtually with no contact to Somalis and even - as you might well find yourself in certain places of continental Europe - often having been the only ethnic minority [in the establishments I frequented], I was at one point Somali only in name and ethnicity. Somalis almost lost me but being the lucky bunch that you are ... you can take a Somali out of the land but you can’t take the Somalinimo out of a Somali. Gradually I have gone through a process of discovering and learning about Somalis and Somalia and have progressed from the point of being ignorant and indifferent to the Somali state of affairs, to being relatively well versed in the frequent discourse. As part of this process I passed through a brief stage of disillusionment; immediately after I visited and travelled through the motherland on a personal [mini] pseudo fact-finding mission. In this stage, I gave up on our land, our people and our future - a sad stage where I settled for being an ethnic minority immigrant in a faraway land. I found it difficult to accustom to and accept the fact that this impoverished and backward land was where I belonged, no matter how bad the situation currently might be. I found it difficult to let go of the glimmering lights, smooth roads and conveniences and accept the fact that those things never were and never would be mine. I was, to say the least, overwhelmed and daunted by the amount of work that my homeland apparently needed to bring it up to standard; at the time it seemed like and impossible and improbable target. I was also immeasurably angry with the divisions and divisiveness, with the disagreeability embedded into the very fabic of the political elite. I quietly even promised myself never to return, such was the disillusionment. Only good then, that that stage [of disillusionment] did not last long. There was somthing inside of me, something that fought the disillusionment, something that is strong, tenacious, flexible and yet unyielding; it was my Somalinimo... I realised you can take a Somali out of the land but you can’t take the Somalinimo out of a Somali. I boarded the plane and embarked on the journey back to the developed places to which I had become so accustomed, though never felt as home. My disillusionment with the homeland was still very strong at that point and these negative feelings were magnified by the very hot and uncomfortable journey through Djibouti. It was utter torture, sitting in that simmering plane on the runway of Djibouti aiirport - with no airconditioning, no water, not comfort it felt like being inside an oven. When I thought it could not get warmer, it did just that and sweat, that was by now running down my everywhere, was causing my clothes to stick to my. As the passengers desperately attempted to cool themselves, in feverish movements with the safety instructions or whatever they could get their hands on, the children who were even more so unable to bear the heat, once again started crying as though they had just seen the elusive yet infamous xuux. You may be thinking, "sod all this negativity and pessimism!", but there was most certainly a silver lining, as thin as it may be. Having experiences just how underdeveloped and impoverished the homeland is, having seen the extent of lack of opportunities, education, health, jobs - all hings that we take for granted - I had indeed learnt a big lesson even though I might not have known it then. I was simply shocked at the number of mentally ill people - in every street there were at least several houses with mentally ill people either chained in front of them or screaming from the inside them. It seemed everywhere I looked there was a huge challenge waiting to be resolved. I also found that the quality of everything was just terrible... from the haphazardly constructed 'houses', to the poor quality imported foods, to the uber-low-quality chinese goods flooding the country, to the dreadful 'roads', shabby business premises, the laughable attempts of plumbing and the list goes on... It was clear that someone, somewhere, had tried to improve things, to innovate, to implement new developments but had done so very, very badly - even though that may have been to the best of their ability. The most shocking/disturbing/unbelievable/disgusting thing to me, was the following. The youth, faced with unemployment/lack of opportunities/jobs/propects and things to do in general, turned to other things. One of these things being, regretably and unfortunately, khamri. It seems that this, as you are aware perhaps of qat, is brought in illegally from Ethiopia and so is Khamri. Yaabka Yaabkiis I never imagined that come nightfall drunk somalis would readily be roaming the streets and that the community was aware of drunken youths - from Hargeisa to Garowe and beyond. The lack of proper leadership means that little to nothing is done about this, and few in number though they may be, I fear that it is only a growing trend. What was lacking, I thought, was leadership - across every field/sector and in every respect. Those diasporans who had returned, instead of trying to make a difference, were often content with the status quo, they left the west and 'halkan' ayay soo candhaadhsadeen, wax ay soo kordhiyaan iska daa. There were also success and good stories to be told. It was a pleasure to be only in the midst of my Somali people. Walk down somali streets. sitting on a porch watching somali children playing peacefully in the street. Praying in one of the many, many mosques. being awoken every morning by the sounds of call to prayer. Watching people every evening congegrate in cafes and open space for mass-maxaadiros. One of the best things was that every morening, long before the subax prayer, you would see countless of people going to work... whether their stalls, stores, offices - women forming a large part of them - people working for their irsaaqad and using the Somali entrepreneurial spirit. I even had a favourite entrepreneur. She was this old lady who converted dollars at a local suuq with her very modest stall - I never went anywhere else to have my money changed. I was also immensly proud of the many wonderful children that I saw - full of ambition, determination and work-ethic. In terms of business, do somali shop-owners know custoemr service and a half! you walk into a store and they will bring you a seat, a cold drink - espeically they target qurbo-joog ladies - adement to have you purchase from them. Lastly I was expecting the infamous "dhaqancelis" shouts... these I never experienced, everyone was very welcoming, very friendly - apart from oromos who would heckle you for money at every opportunity - no one would say a word to you as you go about your business. The silver lining and moral of the story. You will only ever have one home and that is dhulka hooyo. It is upto us to be the catalyst that out land and people require. We need to contribute tangible improvements and change. We need to remember that as humble as we may think of oursleves, we are in effect the 'elite', the most affluent, most educated, most travelled etc. We are capable of improving the situation on the ground because all the place needs is a reversal of the brain-drain.

To leave judging to Allah. To try my utmost never to be a hypocrite.

The key to a successful and fulfilled life is: - To be pro-active, remain engaged and seek out new activities and adventures. - To decide early on who and what kind of person you want to be and then work towards becomeing and being this person. To be the best person who you think you ought to be and no the person others want you to be. To cultivate and articulate your own character and identity. To not let others tell you or decide who you are. - To not be fickle but steadfast in the person who you are and the principles, values, belief and norms that you hold, live by and [should] consistently apply. - To not stand for taking sh1t from other people. Nor let people do sh1t towards a third party. Lastly behave in a respectful and fair way towards all other people. - To not judge, condemn or discriminate against other people - ever.

It was a pleasure to be only in the midst of my Somali people. Walk down somali streets. sitting on a porch watching somali children playing peacefully in the street. Praying in one of the many, many mosques. being awoken every morning by the sounds of call to prayer. Watching people every evening congegrate in cafes and open space for mass-maxaadiros. One of the best things was that every morening, long before the subax prayer, you would see countless of people going to work... whether their stalls, stores, offices - women forming a large part of them - people working for their irsaaqad and using the Somali entrepreneurial spirit. I even had a favourite entrepreneur. She was this old lady who converted dollars at a local suuq with her very modest stall - I never went anywhere else to have my money changed. I was also immensly proud of the many wonderful children that I saw - full of ambition, determination and work-ethic. In terms of business, do somali shop-owners know custoemr service and a half! you walk into a store and they will bring you a seat, a cold drink - espeically they target qurbo-joog ladies - adement to have you purchase from them. Lastly I was expecting the infamous "dhaqancelis" shouts... these I never experienced, everyone was very welcoming, very friendly - apart from oromos who would heckle you for money at every opportunity - no one would say a word to you as you go about your business.

The telcomms sector is booming and is a success story. I was impressed. The reception is perfect, calls are cheap and call-quality is flawless. Cheap mobile phone imported from China are readily available and most teens, even as young as 10, young women and men of all ages carry a mobile phone - from the teacher, to the trader to the geeljire in the baadiye. The only problem is interconnectivity between the various companies. The companies do not connect to eachother so people are forced to have 2 or three different sim cards so that they are able to call their contacts who happen to be on a different network. Even with that problem the market has provided a solution. the solution being cheap chinese-made mobile phones with 2 or even 3 sim-card capacity, thus overcoming the problem of interconnectivity. The youth have the latest pro-Somaliland mp3 songs on their mobile phones. Landlines are also pervasive. Of-course the poorer people cannot afford this but generally those who live in a brick house will have a landline. One market failure is that calls are too cheap. With calls being dirt-cheap, and in some cases free, and people having so much free time as they do not work or study prank-calling has become a huge problem. Folks told stories about receiving calls form and dialling random numbers just for the sake of it. If the person who answers is of the same gender he/she will receive an earful of the most foul and offensive of words. If the person who answers is of the different gender then sheeko and shukaansi starts. One big problem this has led to is th e proliferation of a deviant youth-led and oriented underground where alcohol consumption and Zina are the main activities. Because of this, teenage pregnancies, illigitimate children and rapes are not unheard of. However there is another side to the youth. I saw a youth that were dynamic, informed and hungry for development and education. In addition to their school and quran lessons that they attended, most also attended extra classes run in the evenings.

I was awoken by adhaan early in the morning and already Hargeisa was in full swing. As awoke on the rock-hard double bed I quickly remembered where I was. I was apprehensive and for some reason nervous. I could hear the loud noises of the city outside; donkeys braying as they carry water between the areas of the city, driver honking the horns of their cars as they navigate the narrow but packed "roads", traders and their customers haggling, children playing and shouting and mosques giving sermons through their unregulated speakers. This city is one that is buzzing and lively with people and activities. I pulled myself out of bed and started to make my way to the on-suite "bathroom". I showered under the cold single spray of water coming forth from the attempt at a shower, installed in a tiny bathroom tiled from top to bottom though luckily I did not slip. The drain evidently did not work properly so the water from the shower would remain as still water on the tiled ground of the "bathroom", I hoped it would dry naturally. Quality issues would be a major issue throught my stay. We ordered breakfast and it was brought to our room. Because all food - LITEREALLY ALL FOOD - is cooked on dhuxul (or coal), it never cooks "properly" or at completely the same heat and you can taste this. Begrudgingly I ate the food. We called the car that we had pre-arranged and ventured into the city. The hotel was buzzing with returnees from the diaspora and I hear various european languages as well as Arabic being spoken right, left and centre. We made our way to the downtown. Looking out the window the city was definitely better seen during the day. It looked less gloomy and more lively. However it was still clear that there is extreme poverty and underf devlopment. As we trudged along the road we drove no faster than 20mph at most as the road conditions simply would not allow that. I noticed that most of the city consisted of houses built of brick and the roof covered with painted "jingad" (metal sheets". "Government" buildings were no better and there was an obsession among those offices with painting the perimeter fences and pillars in the white, green and red colours. Perhaps it was lost on them that it looked incredibly amateurish and as though the painting was done by children. All along the main "road" there are little buulal where presumably petty-traders and qat stalls are selling things and/or living. One could complete a tour of the city within 2 hours or so as there is really not much to see or many places to go. We went for lunch to one of the restaurants. We turned into the side-roads and we were rocked inside the car as we navigated dirt-roads where flash-floods had cut deep groves. We turned into the gate of what was presumably the restaurant and parked on the gravel driveway. We sat in a room and ordered our food. As we were eating, with me have tasted and disliked the taste and smell of camel, a woman came to the window of the room and begged us. "Walaalayaal. Walaalayaal wax I siiya. Walaalayaal waxaan ahay hooyo intaas oo caruur oo agoon ah haysata. etc.... As uncomfortable as we felt we gave her what we could and murmling duco after duco she left. She would be the only Somali stranger to beg us during our stay. It was clear there were two socio-economic groups here side by side. Those locals without links to the diaspora are really struggling with the basics of life. We drove into the city centre (Main shopping Street) where dahabshiil, travel agents etc were located. As we got out of the car immediately we drew attention. Different in appearance and clothing to the locals it was clear we did not fit in. For starters darxumo nagamay muuqan. As I walked along the main road and shielded my eyes from the dust and sand that was coming up from the ground a small boy, perhaps 5 years of age came up to me. Walaal, walaal he said, as he put his hand out. It was not immediately clear to me what exactly he wanted. The local with us said he wants money, give him some money. I gave him a couple of 1000' SL shillings and walked on again. Another child approached me, this time a young girl about the same age, clearly underfed and underclothed, she put out her hand. Again I gave her some money. I thought, "if that money will help her in some way, then why not". I walked a little further and turned the corner. A third child, another young boy, approached me from around the corner and put out his hand. "walaalo, walaalo", he said. I thought, o.k, where are these kids coming from because I did not see them a minute ago. I turned the corner and looked. I saw standing a woman surrounded by the children who had approached me. She was taking the money I had given the children and directing some more towards me. Without saying anything I walked off, and having seen that I saw what was going on, the third boy said nothing and walked off. Later we discussed the beggin with the local who was with us. We learnt that the people we gave money to were indeed not even Somali. "The [vast majority of] beggers in Hargeisa are Oromos we were told. They know no Somali other than walaal, walaalo. Kids are used and sent to you to beg." Apparently begging is a good earner for them and they fully exploit the generosity of the Somali people and especially diaspora returnees. Most somalis, unless they are in extremely dire straits, are too proud to beg you directly. And even when they do, they will shaxaad you in quite and arrogant manner.

What are the criteria by which we are judging?