Man-eaters awash!

MsDD what is that about? course about how to pray salat maghrib? If so, I can teach you virtually, no need to pay for it.

interesting stuff!

Do we have a business section? should be fun-- make it Unisex MsDD

May be it will be Islamic to collect the doll huh rather than toil for my food?

Why do we read Quran, even if we can't understand a single Arabic word???? This is a beautiful story. An old American Muslim lived on a farm in the mountains of eastern Kentucky with his young grandson. Each morning Grandpa was up early sitting at the kitchen table reading his Quran. His grandson wanted to be just like him and tried to imitate him in every way he could. One day the grandson asked, 'Grandpa! I try to read the Quran just like you but I don't understand it, and what I do understand I forget as soon as I close the book. What good does reading the Qur'an do?' The Grandfather quietly turned from putting coal in the stove and replied, 'Take this coal basket down to the river and bring me back a basket of water.' The boy did as he was told, but all the water leaked out before he got back to the house. The grandfather laughed and said, 'You'll have to move a little faster next time,' and sent him back to the river with the basket to try again. This time the boy ran faster, but again the basket was empty before he returned home. Out of breath, he told his grandfather that it was impossible to carry water in a basket, and he went to get a bucket instead. The old man said, 'I don't want a bucket of water; I want a basket of water. You're just not trying hard enough,' and he went out the door to watch the boy try again. At this point, the boy knew it was impossible, but he wanted to show his grandfather that even if he ran as fast as he could, the water would leak out before he got back to the house. The boy again dipped the basket into river and ran hard, but when he reached his grandfather the basket was again empty. Out of breath, he said, 'See Grandpa, it's useless!' 'So you think it is useless?' The old man said, 'Look at the basket.' The boy looked at the basket and for the first time realized that the basket was different. It had been transformed from a dirty old coal basket and was now clean, inside and out. 'Son, that's what happens when you read the Qur'an. You might not understand or remember everything, but when you read it, you will be changed, inside and out. That is the work of Allah in our lives.' If you feel this email is worth reading, please forward to your contacts/friends. Prophet MUHAMMAD (PBUH & his family) says: *'The one who guides to good will be rewarded equally'*

"Why CL? Did you drop one of your fake eyelashes" Simply cruel. Morning guys.

Borefessor? Gaalnimoo aah? I have heard waxyaabo kale, laakiin lagu gaaloobaa? I was once told it is Haraam to work in advertising; the guy told me that I draw things or use video which is haraam said he. And now Sol member tells me shaqada (a general shaqo) waa lagu gaaloobaa because you smile when a colleague mentions his misfortune of the night before? Shez, common dream fit for a common man

Part III British childhood memories of Somaliland – Part III Hugh Milne August 04 , 2008 Mother runs a clinic – stoic Somalis survive on little When we got to Hargeisa, Ruth had returned to England so some of her official duties were carried out by my Mother, Marjorie. She and Ruth had worked together at a small Clinic, Ruth had set up in the village to attend to Somali women and children. I believe the clinic is still in operation. My Mother writes: Hugh (left) and Anthony Milne 2007. “At first I was merely asked to keep records and to teach the two Somali dressers to speak English. But as things became busy I helped with dressings. We had busy mornings attending to 300 to 400 cases. Most cases were routine but every now and then we had serious patients. Malnutrition among the babies and young children was prevalent. The dry desert winds caused dehydration. The adults had trained themselves to do with very little water as there was sometimes many miles between water wells. Infants were unable to compensate for these conditions and were often so weak they couldn’t cry, but mewed like a cat. “We did what we could with rations, powdered milk, and vitamins etc but we never knew how many survived. Tropical Ulcers and all kinds of cuts were brought in – perhaps a kick or a bit from a camel, a bite from a Jackal, while a women slept, and so on. The people were most stoical, I never heard even a young child scream no matter how much we hurt them. Ruth has some VAD training but I was very ignorant so was horrified when told I was to take charge of the clinic when Ruth returned to England. I was relieved when a trained nurse joined her Officer husband and came to take over.” When we first arrived, Mother was in the thick of it and seemed to be coping ok. She had an interesting experience. She lost a dress ring. It had a distinctive aquamarine stone and it disappeared from the house. Only our servants came into the house so one of them must have taken it. Some months later a Somali woman came to the clinic with the ring on her finger. Mother called the Police who were told the woman was given it by a man for perhaps the obvious reason. Mother got her ring back. Her grand-daughter in Australia now has it and wears it on special occasions. Mother runs Radio Hargeisa & plays governor’s hostess Mother left the clinic and was drafted as personal secretary to the Information Officer. She writes: “Now I had never worked in an office, never filed a letter, and could only type rather slowly. I was given a one hour tabloid course in office procedure, and then left to my own devices. My boss was new to the office and indeed, I arrived the day before he did, which gave him the excuse ‘you were here before I was so you must know what to do’ He soon asked for a transfer, and I was told that as he would not be replaced, I was in charge. The unpaid job consisted of running the Radio Station, sending out the mobile cinema unit to surrounding villages, and getting out a weekly news-letter. I had a Sergeant Major to run the radio station, Somali drivers for the cinema unit, some clerical staff , and I was responsible for an expenditure budget of ten thousand pounds” Being one of the few females in the Administration, Mother became an unofficial hostess for the Governor. First for Brig Jerome Fisher after Ruth went home to England and then, for the Acting Governor, who was a bachelor, who replaced Jerome when he followed his wife home. Her unpaid duties included arranging and hostessing official dinners. Jerome Fisher had been a career Officer in India so still had a Victorian mind-set. The ‘wallas’ were put on this earth for his benefit. While in India he had purchased two museum grade Persian rugs. Each covered an entire wall (they were too valuable to put on the ground) in the Residency. The Residency was the only ‘proper’ house in Hargeisa at that time. During the day, therefore, my Mother and Father were otherwise occupied leaving us to our own devices. Each morning, Mother set some school work for us to do. We had other ideas. The next door neighbour with the two horses was also busy during the day. He asked us if we would exercise his horses for him. So most days we would saddle up and tear off up the Tug as fast as the nags would take us. Schoolwork would be hastily done just before the parents returned home. ...to be continued *Hugh Milne welcomes reader’s responses and enquiries if any at his Email: "Hugh and Trish" huntrish@bigpond.net.au *This memoir piece is provided by Bashir Goth, Email:bsogoth@yahoo.com

I wont change it; not now anyway. My friend and I have a plan to set up something similar with a 'soul'. Hire highly competent peeps with real personalities then change the way people think-- you see we have a plan; can't let little things get in the way

Lily, when you spend most of the day in the office and socialise (not out of choice but lack of time) work becomes everything. MSDD, I wish I had a rich dad too

Ibtisaam—tried that couple times; going to Marbella this weekend and then off to Barcelona for the wedding of our Creative director who I thought was gay because he is a bit camp! Anyhow, taking time off it great, money is okay (not been in the industry for 10 years; that when you make the big bucks). Ngone, incidentally, we have someone in the office who we call Brown nosing Bill- BnB! As a Somali, it is difficult to engage in BN as we think it is below our station. Anyhow, office politics is great, but one gets tired of it all. Al-Haashimi: If I ever try to voice such ill thoughts then I might as well sign my resignation letter—which I have already written couple months back though resigning from this post is perhaps a year or two to go. Thanks PS: I am writing this to you guys from the balcony of my office with my slick apple mac! The sun is shining in London what a difference a day makes.

Malin Wanagsan, I work in advertising (I know, safe the clichés guys) and I am getting fed up with work but it is the only thing I am good at. Tried couple things; mainly stuff that doesn’t require mental exercise and failed shamefully. The constant drivel that I have to push to clients together with the self-important people I work with is driving me off the wall- okay, almost! There are occasions which I find satisfying in what I am doing, but these are rarity. Now the SOL galarry, without going around shouting, leave this evil industry and do something you will find rewarding—I don’t want to leave; not yet anyway; what I want is something to keep me going, at least for a while till I get my ‘real vocation’!! Question, how do you keep yourself interested—I am not posing this question those who are in the voluntary sector or health industry where there is the feeling you are being selfless and helping others………! Accounts, engineers, finance, and IT people might be able to help as well as those who are in similar industry namely PR, Publishing or Consulting…..!. Appreciated.

Quitely loud or may be loudly quite you pick.

Qeylo-dhaan.

JB- that is unlike PS: his statement can not be divorced from his political prostitution

^who the heck cares man, the man clearly needs help.

Hassan, how is she an stooge? pray tell.

HE IS NOTHING BUT A Shame the good name of SYL. Jobles son of a'noble' man who has prostitued himself without a gain. He was staunch critic of the Government then become the most notable supporter of IT. He was hoping to get a seat- an ambasodorial may be like the DUKE. He took his mother to see the President (she is distant cousin of his HE) but to no avail; left with nothing. He is now between a rock and hard place and doesnt know what to do but write drivel all the time.

^ Five apple is what is hot these days yaa Soomaali.

JB= Siilaanyo?

Gen Duke, Congrats mate for what is the beginning of your career-- though I was told that Tehran was the graveyard of diplomatic careers. Once again, soo dhowoow and my Allah make it easy for you.

Oh come on, you can have it both ways. Either you are succesfully moneterilly or not-- if the later then you know a life of dieper cleaning awaits

Lily, If only Somali women were that focused and succesfull

Somaliland = Contrarian; as in "it has every characteristics that an State does not have"; thusly it is indeed real and living in the midst of emotions of those who indeed are blided by its sheer prowess to beguile".