Historic, indeed! A great day for Somalis everywhere. Masha Allah!

^ So if next year a fellow from one of the habar tribes becomes the head of the TFG-- are you telling me Xaaji Marduuf will then begin to support the TFG? Fascinating stuff...lol

General Duke;684573 wrote: VIVA LA BANAADIR! Masha Allah.

In 2010, the silly dreams of the secessionist habros of the north was officially thwarted by the international community, and the Al Shabab deviants of the south are no longer as powerful as they once were... which is why 2011 will be a great year for Somalia-- from Zaylac to Ras Kombooni!

^ LOL...

Conspiracy;684029 wrote: "I am not going to die but you are" said Amina with psychotic look in her eyes. "What .. what are you doing?" replied Hanad as Amina got closer to him. "How do you think we maintain our powers" answered Amina as she started to .. continued... But wait, hang on, you protest...Surely Amina will not hurt Hanad? Our hero isn't going to get chucked out of the story so soon, surely? Well, yes, he will---in fact, there he goes, vanishing into Amina's mouth, as she swallows him whole--and if you find that unfair, just imagine how the creators of Hanad's character will feel when they discover they're without a hero to side with and care for through the rest of the story. Cursing herself for what she just did(apparently she was falling for Hanad), Amina starts to descend down back to earth---and got the shock of her life as a figure covered in a vomit-like substance, looking rather gooey and disgusting, reared up on her path. Was it a mutilated corpse? A regurgitated human carrion? A dirty Egyptian mummy from ancient times? Whatever or whoever, it was more animal protein for Amina to eat, and without breaking her stride she launched herself at it, shouting "Ka cararaay!", and then tripped and missed to get a hold of the thing in front of her. In an instant Amina turned around, only to find the nauseating thing assuming the "Crane" stance from The Karate Kid. She whispered to herself "Cajiib!" and thought, a fellow blood warrior, eh!--and after that it was all too quick for the eyes to follow, as high kicks flashed, up cuts lunged, fingers tried to poke out eyes, nerve pathways were prodded, groin kicks were delivered and avoided as each tried rather stealthily to sneak one of those lower round-house kicks famously popularized by Jean-Claude Van Damme, where you stand on one leg and try to lash out the other one from all the way behind--risking a life altering injury, but that's karate for you. At which point, Amina, quietly acknowledging her adversary's abilities, resorted to that famous trick of pretending to have pulled a leg muscle--limping suddenly with a cry "Alla Hooyooy! Alla lugta muruq baa i bowdey!".... It took the other fighter unawares, with a cunning uppercut-- quickly followed by an elbow strike right in the center of the forehead--Amina knocked the other fighter to the ground. Then Amina put her arms around him and gripped him tight, and prepared, like an African Rock Python, to swallow the fighter whole when she recognized him--did you guess?--physical features of a Somali Brad Pitt, seven feet of lean muscle, broad shoulders, strong jaw, steady brilliant black eyes gleaming in the sunlight, puckered thick lips very close to her own. "Hanad!" she cried. "Qumayo!" exclaimed Hanad, emphasizing his hatred for Amina. Yep, his animosity was genuine, I mean what did you expect when the heroine finds herself unexpectedly getting ready to eat a hapless hero all-over-again and his juicy lips are inches from her's? A very brief, electric moment elapses as their eyes lock, and then she just goes for it and locks her mouth on his, and the only question before you, dear audience, is: will Hanad's limp hands... a) grab her closer to kiss her more passionately, or b) fasten around her neck as he tries to choke her and get his revenge? In this case, we will side with romantics in the audience, and say--neither. Hanad was too aroused to resist (or was he secretly planning his revenge?), and when they finally stopped kissing due to their mutual need for fresh air, the stared at each other yearningly and then suddenly their amorous affections for one another simultaneously vanished. "You tried to eat me!", Hanad said in confusion and fear as beads of sweat begun dripping from his face. "What do you mean I tried--I DID! How the hell did you come back, where the hell did you come from?" replied Amina shockingly. "You witch! Sixiroolad baad tahay!" yelled Hanad. .."Oh, I'm gonna teach my "powers! ...Am gonna show you how to fly!" mocked Hand with a slight lisp a little accentuated for effect. "That was all black magic just so you could eat me, huh--?" "Hanad, please calm down!" She tried to relax him, for she started to feel sorry for him and she was regretting what she had done.

Welcome, birdy!

Chimera;683642 wrote: This description of Hanad and his background by the deluded attention seeking HOBOS in the town , were nothing but silly Chinese whispers, since ofcourse as his name suggest, Hanad was a full blooded Somali boy, whose handsome features caught the attention of Amina at the detriment of a jealous balding Kanye West looking guy sitting in the back of the classroom. A happy Amina decided to share with Hanad her powers of flight & mindreading. Continued... Hanad, who at the time was doing a math assignment in class, thought Amina was joking, but when she insisted her powers were real, he closed his book with a noise not unlike that of a clap, shoved it in his school bag, and exclaimed: "Well, that is certainly a fascinating story, but you better not be pulling my leg!" "So do you wanna learn them or not, Hanad?" asked his friend, Amina. "But before I show you my powers, you promise me that you will not tell anyone and that you will not use them for anything evil!" "I'm not promising you anything, you--you weird girl," answered Hanad, with a laugh at Amina. "Though that isn't saying if what you are saying is really true, I won't listen to you." "I believe you--that is if you won't read my mind once I teach you," returned Amina, and there was warm admiration in her voice.

^ Maybe you find them hilarious because they have some nuggets of truth to them, especially when they are lodged at you, eh! Now back to your assertions...you are right, Galkacyo is a "failed" city in a failed province, Mudug, in a failed country, Somalia. However, Somalia has many provinces, one of which includes Waqooyi galbeed, and that makes Waqooyi galbeed by default a failed province as well, if we are to follow your thinking. So do you have anything else to talk about?

^ Thanks for putting in a good word for me , bro!

^ LOL! And they even made it bold to prove it to us.

^ I don't know about you General, but in any tournament I want the team I'm supporting to win. My first team was eliminated, and now that my second team has reached the final, I would love it if they won. So go Banaadir, but, of course, I will wish the Bari team all the best as well.

^ If I wanted to hear a monkey cackle, I'd visit my local zoo, hombre. So I'd keep it civil if I were you, o.k!

Go Banaadir!

RE: Define a nation You are a nation only when your collective marqaan hallucinations say you are. P.S "While one side can break a contract, the approval of both sides is needed to rightfully and justly rescind a contract"--Abraham Lincoln

in the Hargardheer refugee camp. Their neighbors mostly avoided them, believing that the family's hut was haunted.

wyre;683400 wrote: Exploding fireworks are delightful. But not with nuts in them. Ha ha ha...so true!

^ Ismalura, I'll take you on, so bring it sis!

MoonLight1;683512 wrote: xx One of the reasons I believe the South is in a mess is because the brain jigsaw of somalis is scattered and part of it is trapped in Sland , once we come together and solve this jigsaw then we will be fine. So Xaaji look beyond the Habar Habareey horizon. What a beautiful line! Insha Allah, sanity will eventually prevail.

Abtigiis;683491 wrote: There is no need to seek arbitration on this matter from dead men, from cadavers under the soil. The living men and women of SSC are Somali unionists, have been that for all the time we knew them. The SNM project was a clan project all along too. If the logic of treaties and legalities is to inform our understanding of the Somaliland Vs SSC situation, it has to also apply to the Somaliland Vs Somalia debate. Somaliland is part and parcel of Somalia, by law. Its secession is not endorsed by all of its people, let alone by the rest of Somalia. In fact, we will only know whether what is clearly a clan-fanatic leaders pet project is shared by the wider populace from the same clan. The 'landers' -I mean the real ones themselves did not get the opportunity and the option to choose what they want. I believe the secession agenda will not go far if unionists from that clan are allowed to present their case. At least there will be a division among the clan. There is no question Awdal, Salal and SSC will vote for union. Which will leave a small but vocieferous group of clan-worshippers like JB and XX to endlessly lament processes, wrong referendums etc etc. Fortunately, they will die angry and bitter like most exteremists in history have died. Great post, sxb. Indeed, these aspiring secessionists will die angry and bitter. And thankfully, it won't be too long before they do-- for most of them are in the twilight of their lives.

Banaadir laacibiin baa ka buuxa. Masha Allah, great job!

The resuscitation of sports in Somalia is indeed of paramount importance to all of us and all Somalis everywhere must encourage it and fully participate whenever possible. Mr.Cabdi Bille's successes as a long distance runner proves to us all that-- if we put our minds to it-- Somalia can easily compete against Ethiopia and Kenya, who for the most part dominate such events in world competitions.

^ So you finally decide to turn up, eh? But unfortunately, all you have proved and reaffirmed with that last monstrosity of a thing you call a post is that you have now certifiably become unhinged, my friend. You waited more than 48 hours after promising "There shall be big gaps where your front teeth once resided"--- but instead, what did we get? "Oh, I saw your picture on facebook and you look fat!". C'mon Abtigiis, oomph it up man, gives us the real laughy laughs, will ya? I know I've said you were desperate and that you'd be quick to resort to any base low-level tactics and all, but crumbling so quickly into taking such puerile cheap shots, generic hogwash and outright plagiarism like you've just done only proves the points I made in my last post... A&T, you wrote: Abtigiis;683487 wrote: Indeed, Uchi's timeous reinforcement from as far as Nigeria and Ogoni -delta is a welcome, heart-warming development. Nonetheless, the Naija-brother should not read much into the insults of this overfed young boy from the antihills of Mudug and Bari . Did you see Mr. Somalia's picture on facebook, where he still belongs? All along I thought the reason for his voluminous torso was due to clinical obesity or some other malady; I now realise the bulge is to do with cuqdad for Caanoboodhe- drinkers like me. The bulge is insult and anger, nothing else. Which takes us to the story of war-time Albion and its drunkard Prime Minister- Winston Churchill. One day during the Second World War, Winston Churchill staggers into a room, dead drunk as usual. Of course, you know Churchill had a drink problem, the way George Bush had the same. I trust you read Bush’s memoir “Decision Points ”. Seeing that the Prime Minister of Britain was drunk, dead drunk, one lady plucked courage and confronted him. Without wasting time, she barked a sharp rebuking order, one that reversed power relations. Temporarily at least. "Mister Prime Minister, you are drunk. Get out of the room!" The drunk British Prime Minister, doddered forward, towards the cheeky woman who had dared him. Once satisfied that he had gained suitable distance for a maximum uptake of his piece of mind, the Prime Minister, letting out thick fumes of the substance, pauses for a dramatic while, hardly steady and upright. Then the bombshell: "My good lady, I am druuuuuunk, and I don’t deny that. "But tomorroooow morning, tomorrow mooooorning, I shall wake up sober, possibly with a small, nagging headache which will vanish together with early morning dew. But as for you, darlin’, you are ugly, uuuuugly. Let’s see how you will look tomorrow." The point had been made with this firm rebuke: that far harder to contain are age-settled disabilities of mind and body, as opposed to petty oddities of men or evanescent penury that forces one not to diversify his diet (my Caanaboodhe)! :D Let us see if Mr. Somalia can walk straight, not burdened by obstinate misko . :D Most of which, you stole from a fellow by the name of Nathaniel Manheru who wrote the following on an obscure website for Zimbabweans... Do you know Churchill? But more was in store. The MDC-M man sought to make sure I would not stagger up and back for a second round, for any round for that matter. "Winston Churchill, remember that in history?" "Of course I do," I shot back, smarting from the clear condescension blow that had just smote me. Given my age, surely my interlocutor knew I was old enough to have been what Achebe called "a British Protected Child" whose education was fated to be colonial? And beyond the British Isle, Churchill is a "hero" of the British Empire, surely? Including in Zimbabwe. Don’t we have Churchill High here? Don’t we have Churchill’s Arms in Bulawayo, well written in sans serif too? Don’t we have other little churchills: on roads and even on some children darker than any two African nights on a rainy day well after the moon has "sat"? Churchill’s great rebuke "Of course I do," I mourned once more, felled yet again. "One day during the Second World War, Winston Churchill staggers into a room, dead drunk as usual. You know Churchill had a drink problem?" This time around I decided I had had it. I was ready to throw back to stop this vain block. "The way George Bush had the same? Have you read his memoirs, Decision Points," I shot back. This one had to catch him. I hoped to transfer the plague of insufficiency by which this vain man got at me. Cleverly, he hurried past the innuendo, the sly political MDC man. "Seeing that the Prime Minister of Britain was drunk, dead drunk, one lady plucked courage and confronted him. Without wasting time, she barked a sharp rebuking order, one that reversed power relations. Temporarily at least. "Mister Prime Minister, you are drunk. Get out of the room!" The error you cannot mend "You know how it is with drunks and I am sure you appreciate what a drunk wielding enormous power does." I wondered whether my interlocutor was not making another go at me. I don’t drink, have never taken in alcohol. He was appealing to the unfamiliar to compound my insufficiency, I reasoned. Another condescending assault from this *******! "The drunk Briton, the drunk British Prime Minister, doddered forward, towards the cheeky woman who had dared him. Once satisfied that he had gained suitable distance for a maximum uptake of his piece of mind, the Prime Minister, letting out thick fumes of the substance, pauses for a dramatic while, hardly steady and upright. Then the bombshell: "My good lady, I am druuuuuunk, and I don’t deny dzat. "But tomorroooow morning, tomorrow mooooorning, I shall wake up sober, possibly with a small, nagging headache which will vanish together with early morning dew. But as for you, darlin’, you are ugly, uuuuugly. Let’s see how you will look tomorrow." That delivered, Churchill staggered on, to the podium and, yes, the Second World War was won by the Allies, Churchill’s Britain included. The point had been made: that far harder to contain are age-settled disabilities of mind, as opposed to petty oddities of youth. Jehova akati: "Regai vauye kwandiri nekuti umambo hwekudenga ndohwavakadai." Source: P.S--Thanks a lot, bro...You made me realize how really good I 've become at ruffling your feathers.

wyre;683191 wrote: here was a man at the corner with one third of a hat and half a pair of shoes. I offered him my boots. He sold them to a homeless guy for ten bucks and gave the money to a woman at a bus stop. I really liked those boots… :D:D Sometimes charity has it's shortcomings. Nice one. Give us one more!

^ Good job, Chimera, for your story was exactly 50 words, though I personally couldn't make head or tails of it. Was the boy, already in the sea? Was he dreaming it? Was he unable to breath because of the Asthma, or was he actually drowning in the ocean, you mentioned? This story clearly is in need of recalibration, however I think you've effectively manacled your creativity by insisting on the fiddy-word limitation-- which is why, you have no choice but to publish a story rife with ambiguities. This is why I think, we should do away with the handicap, and allow people and yourself the freedom to cook up stories of how many words a person chooses. Let me know what you think about this idea.