Right now i am thinking about how ****** people in the west are :eek: :confused: i would not mind so much if it was not for how their ********* affects the rest of the world ..... i mean David Kay just said inspite of his phraseological prancing that THERE ARE NO WMD'S IN IRAQ the americans and brits are thinking they got something other than the truth from him. :mad: :mad: :mad: ......

hey people grow, hopefully gain from the knowledge that they have imbibed and besides it would have gotten rather stale in here you know wwith just the same 15 people talking about things that are so personl be laugh out loud at private jokes, which is inevitably what happens in other forums. till we feel the summer in the spring . bubye

hey mine has to be DUNE the mother of all that is science fiction/I've been a fan of Dune for as long as I can remember. The first Dune book was written by Frank Herbert in 1965. This was a book series I avidly enjoyed while growing up, and its thoughts on enviromentalism and how long, small changes can make a big difference have always stuck with me. This is definitely a book that gets better and better each time you read it. You can read it at age 12 and think it's a great story of a young boy growing up, how he grows and changes and matures as a result of all of the things he goes through. You can read it at 20 and think it's a great book about environmentalism - how changes to a planet and its ecosystem have wide-ranging effects that can be disastrous. And as you continue to read it, you catch all of the subtle nuances - the way people treat each other, how communication and trust can make and destroy lives, how desire for love, desire for power, desire for wealth, desire for knowledge, all shape humans. Some people label this book as 'science fiction' - and it is in the sense that it occurs in a galaxy that has space travel, where technologies unknown to us are in use. But in a grander sense it is about human drama - how humans react to the situations they're in, how their passions drive them, how they think and feel and relate to each other. Yes, there are terms to learn and ideas to understand. This is true whether you're reading a book about the aborigines of Australia or mountain climbing in the Himalayas. It's not something you need to obsess over, constantly checking glossaries. Like in any book, simply read the book from start to end and get absorbed into the culture. The terms will make sense, the personalities will reveal themselves. Some have said the book has characters that are good or evil. I actually find that the MOVIES did this, but the books are extremely good at layering the many shades of grey. People always have motives for what they do and feel that their motives are perfectly justified. Some motives are compassionate, some motives are self serving. Very much like real life :cool:

hey zaylici , i hope i dont veer to far off the topic but let me try to explain how i see things with somalis in the diaspora. There a two strains and a third very minor strain of thinking with the somali community in the west, easily surmised as, 1> "what has somalia ever done for me, i was 3 yrs when i left and i dont get the language the culture or even give a damn to learn any of these. 2- "i am ready to go back and i really want to help my people, but first there has got to be peace, color t.v, first class hospitals, re-runs of seinfeld, no horrible wrigly things that bite you on the foot,,,,,oh and a ben and jerrys around the coner then maybe i will set up an extractive bussiness that will add no local knowledge or increase value on home goods" 3- " i want to get my degree maybe some work experience and then I AM GOING BACK period". 1 is worthless but honest 2 is worthless and dishonest and not only that people who think like 2 have pernicious effects with thier FAUX nostalgia on 3. 3 on the other hand is learning, leading and never forgeting that their kingdom is not in the barren platue of the west but in SOMALIA. for these people a practical website to visit is TAKINGIT GLOBAL were there are list and adresses of people who think like them in somalia. zaylici i feel myself veering off. :eek: bear with me

Now ogun as the template for greek mythology?!!!! There is a picture of Hephaistos ( vulcan)throwing his net over Aphrodite and Ares in front of Zeus and the other Olympians. Aphrodite, goddess of love, was having an affair with Ares, the god of war. Aphrodite was the legitmate wife of Hephaistos. Sounds like the love triangle of Ogun, Oya and Chango. Basic story with slight alterations in characters involved. It could well be that this Greek myth was descended from the story of Chango stealing the wife of Ogun. After all, Chango was a great warrior and indeed loved war. Interesting to speculate, but of course, there is no scientific proof. And ogun worship in the catholisim In the Candomble traditions, Ogun is identified with Saint George. This is easy to understand, since St. George in pictures is usually seen as a knight in armor, carrying a lance, subduing a dragon. We imagine that seeing a Catholic Saint all in metal, one of the attributes of Ogun would make one identify this Orisha with Saint George. Since he is carrying a metal lance in his hand and obviously overcoming his enemy, this also reinforces the reasoning behind identifying Ogun with St. George. OGUN on corruption: The termites that would eat the kingdom First built their nest In the loin-cloth of the king (p. 13) 4. The gods that show remorse ley claims to man's Forgiveness -- a founder-king shall dare no less (p. 14) 5. Bid all beware the scorpion in the thatch -- His cunning lacks all shame Make note of the dealer in death A stink of the hyena, gorged in carrion. (p. 15) 6. I know -- who more than I? the trade of courtiers thrives on fawning... (p. 16)

I would like for of all of you to consider this, who do you belive would be able to lead somalia into a new age were leviathan( all forces in society that wish to disrupt it)is chained and justice is instilled into our social order. Many of you would say that any body who could do these things would have your vote. But looking around at the topics and responses in some of the forums i am left with a nagging feeling that many of us believe that this man would do all these things with out stepping on any ones toes, will change society in a democratic manner and my personal favourite will do all this with out Clannism figuring into it. Perhaps we got to wake up and smell the PROPANE leaking under such a facile argument. This is my picture of what somalis need for a leader. A man : lets face it although women have always been a mainstay of our culture and have been the major providers during the period of the civilwar, no man and indeed very few women would vote for a woman no matter how storied her past, and how exelent her pedigree, a woman as president although a pleasing illusion will not happen in the somali context. A religious man: First of all i donot mean an ikhwan although this would be desireable for some, an ikhwan is a weakling in this world of tough decision's, and dare i say immoral decisions to be taken we need not one who quotes the quran but one who takes action, how ever detrimental to his chances of nural-cain in the next life, therefore although a religious man is desirable what is absolutley fundamental in a leader is that he ACTS like a religious man , first row in prayers and with a very dark gatta (prayer mark) on his forehead let him lead prayers on CIID and let him be generous with his money (a sign of religiosity in any man) if he feels him self to much of a hypocrite perhaps he can console himself that he is only one of 6 million somali men who are hocrites just like him, and let us not forget the strength of religion worn lightly, a strength that shall be appreciated by all somalis. A man of the right clan: here i mean a man whose clan has not ruled before, is not too large, and is not to implicated with too much of the fighting that can not be explained away as being for self defence, but take this with a pinch of salt as in the end strength in the military world will be respected, feared and supported by all somalis who respect only these things *somalidhu markaad deegta kahayso bay ku hishmadayan* poor somali i am sure but the words of abdirazaq haji hussein a man who could garner support if it wasnt for the fact that he cannot be respected. Strength in particular: a man who wishes to rule must be strong militarily by being able to create coalition's of clans (there is that word again) as well as a coalition with the islamists who now through fronts control most of what presently masquerades as economy in somalia ( seeming religious wont hurt this ruse ), some might believe that military strength is not a prerequisite to leadership, they should take a look at our own little example of mismatched ideas . The TNG goverment formed in somalia belived that all its moral force and 12 years of war would be enough to tip the boat towards peace , the issue ladies and gentlemen was not about representation or miscommunication beteewn the TNG and the warlords, the fact is the warlords knew the goverment was powerless to impose anything on anybody, not respect for LAW or the fear of it as an entity. One does not talk the language of peace to a man with a gun, all of it is lost in translation. History is litterd with examples of such ********* , of men or groups of men that thought they could convince men of war with words instead of the possibility of an unsuccesfull war! Let us leave the dove in its cage only a man with knowledge of war can impose peace. Ruthlessness: A major part of leadership in somalia is the mollifying of opposing forces through the use of the carrot, loans (ofcourse intreast free), support for political and development platforms e.t.c. But people, is not the use of the stick not as important to a leader, or must one threaten its use to get the desired reaction. Although this might work, in a while it will not, even more so with people as bull headed as ours, what is to be done then ....? Sure democracy is fine, talking is great but what is needed is something that will keep the men from breaking their bonds. Although words fail me i will give you an example of a man who would be prince's (and who will never be) action when his rule was threatend in puntland, yes you got it our very own Yusf abdulahi when this man in 1992 was faced by a group of mullas in las canood and other areas, he attempted negotiation, they would not agree for you see GOD was on their side, the colonel attacked them and so completley routed them that there has been no threat from that quater for a very long time. Unfortuantely as in everything one must know when to stop the colonel because of his own insecurity decided to massacre the families of the fundamentalists, you see he is not a man who understands the limit between ruthlessness in pursuit of ones goals and bloody mindedness. A distinction that must be observed by any future leader. The Fox and The Lion: these are two extreme characters that needs to be welded in the personality of a future leader, instead of explaining my version of it i will give you what i consider an example of each: The FOX : Ebrahim Egal was most undoubtely a fox, he became the president of somaliland, having never sided with the SNM or having ever taken part in an armed inssurection, but he beat people like Ahmed Silanyo and Abdirahman Tur to the seat, men more deserving than him. How, because he was a political operator extrodinaire he knew how to bribe and when to bribe the elders, he knew what men, who might have endangered him wanted for them selves and bought them off, he outmanouvered countless rivals and outlasted others, in the great burco meeting of 1992 he went with out sleep for 72 hrs canvassing votes, being awake long after all his political enemies had dropped asleep, literally. A fox indeed! but in his urge not to fight he has allowed sool and sanag to fall more and more into the orbit of puntland, being a lion here would have undoubtedly given an understandable message to another lion abdillahi yusuf. A Lion: Aideed was the man who could have taken over somalia, now many would argue with that statement, you may till you explode i dont care if he did or could have the fact is he did not and failed as a Prince. But in fall of 1992 he had the prestige of arguably bringing down the barre regime, he had the support of the SNM indeed abdirahman "bobbe" the SNM information secretary at the time and many others said he was the only southerner they saw them selves working with in a goverment. He had the respect of military men having been one of the best tacticians produced by the somali army, and lastly having being incarcerated for 9 yrs he had the sympathy of all those regardless of clan who remebered labatan jirrow and other hell holes, but a lion cannot change his mane when a little known hotelier decided quite out of the blue to call himself the prseident, Aideed should have been a fox to counter him i.e buy out his supporters, allay the fears of his clan e.t.c unfortunately he did not due to the "macanagniimo" he had to display as a lion in the USC struggle. He failed and so did the nation. LION and FOX in the same man, both creatures you will notice are AMORAL meaning that they donot consider what they do for survival and self protection liable to the strictures of morality.! So please, any one who feels that they wish to reply should keep this saying in mind " i have decided to go with what works in all disscusions about morals".

I am gratified you have the peoples welfare at heart, bt i hope the suffering of the people is not raise the mediocre to the sublime.

Entreprenuer you may write fiction but most definitely your views in life will shine through your prose. secondly nuradin farah also claims the hat of political pundit his views have been published in non-fiction works. Thirdly is it just me or would you support an aposate as leader of somalia

"The Forge of Vulcan" and was painted by Diego Velazquez. It represents the Roman blacksmith god - Vulcan, called Hephaistos by the Greeks. Ogun is our African Orisha counterpart to Vulcan. He is the Orisha of metals and metal-working. That is the reason that the otan or stone of Ogun lives in a metal cauldron and his implements are made or iron or steel. Since iron working began in the iron age, we tend to believe that our Ogun preceded Vulcan and Hephaistos, since these cultures developed well after the bronze age. Just another example of how universal energies manifest in different culture at different times.

PROFILE: Taban Lo Liyong was born in Kajokaji, in the southern Sudan, in the late 1930s. He grew up in Uganda, and studied at National Teachers' College (Kampala), Howard University, and got an MFA in Creative Writing at the University of Iowa. He has taught at the universities of Nairobi, Papua New Guinea, Juba, and now at the University of Venda in South Africa. He is the author of numerous works of poetry and fiction. Review of ANOTHER NIGGER DEAD! Another Nigger Dead begins promisingly enough. The first lines of the first poem are: bless the african coups tragedy now means a thing to us It is one of the longer poems in the book -- and, like much of the book, uneven. It looks for grandeur in tragedy -- "it is not a tragedy / if the stakes are minimal" -- though it is not entirely consistent. It is a listing and an interpretation of what tragedy is, what it involves. Elements of the poem succeed, but the whole only half convinces. There are a number of other longer poems. i walked among men in america for a year, for example, is a narrative piece that retells Taban's odd marriage (and its end), closing in a "prophesy and curse". It is, certainly of biographical interest, and it is not badly expressed. But it is uncertain poetry. The last piece in the book is Batsiary in Sanigraland, a prose poem -- and the only piece in the collection with punctuation (even apostrophes !). The bulk of the poems, however, are very short pieces, each between two and six lines long, printed three to a page. Different sides of Taban are revealed, especially the writer, "a babbler by the seaside". There is unexpected humility at times: how wide a vocabulary must a man have to explore meanings in the world sometimes words fail me The limits of language are echoed elsewhere as well: i know what it means to fall in love with words they are so inadequate and my stock runs dry There is some "building a life philosophy / through juggling with words". He insists: "you create yourself". There is some politics, but these brief lessons are generally more general. The poetic quality varies. There are clever, well expressed lines, but few of the poems -- even of the short pieces -- are fully realized. A few do stand out, in particular: id have loved god more had christian missionaries confirmed my superstitions its hard to believe after being undeceived Some of the simplest pieces work best: all men seek happiness in very unlikely places Overall, Another Nigger Dead is certainly an interesting collection -- and not nearly as contentious as one might expect from both Taban and from the title. A slight sense of defeat and disillusionment -- including his failed marriage and the impotence of the writer to truly affect change -- pervades the texts (from title onwards). Taban remains unpredictable (a positive, here), and the personal quality is also a strength. Little is completely successful, but there is enough here to make the collection a worthwhile one.

I am a student at UCT and can consider Nuradin as a family freind , as such i can say that i would not, not know or ever want to see him in any position in somalia. Lest you believe that i am saying this behind his back, i have told him so straight to his face! Mr. Farah is in the mold of LEOPOLD SENGHOR and other intellectuals that believe the struggle that faces africa can best be resolved by the language of conciliaton of the WEST. This apeing of the west not only in his facile latter books (SECRETS pub 2001 talks about buggery and necrophilia in the somali context, rape is a subject but instead of clearly definig what it is to the somali mind and its clear roots in the civil war it is glorified and yet treated like it was as simple as the killing of a shrew) In his ten commandments speech having been a first hand witness to its formation i can only say somalia needs gods help if its sons are so ****** . DEMOCRACY YES BUT NOT NOW? WARLORDS MUST BE CONVINCED OF THE WRONG THEY PREPATRATE LOVE IS THE ANSWER sub headings 2, 3, 7, and 10. Last but not least he is an APOSTATE from islam. you think i speak culumny read blood in the sun,here he admits god is dead and to the futility of prayer, wonder if these non sequiturs are as a result of the cape wines he drinks.?! Somalia needs A MAN OF ACTION let nuradin prance and philosophize in his books.

sister, rarely is a point given in one post and then backed up by the stream of specious and inane comment in an other. but urs takes the cake. snakes kulahaa. homesick kulahaa. mr.hersi how can u not help but feel depressed.

I WILL go back to somalia of that i have no doubt. As for all these psuedo-somalis who insist that they will not go back to somalia unless they are availed of toshiba television and cd-roms recorded to 160 revolutions a minute, and packaged meat with packaged hormones, well these people will always have one excuse or another to avoid somalia, the most hypocritical will kill you with their nostalgia and their "invovlement" in the politics back home, whilst others will admit to you that this valley, rut that they live in paperd with welfare checks is all they ever really wanted. to the brother who started the topic, things maybe difficult but surmounting those difficulties in the rejuvenation of our society will be all we should act towards , all in our seperate ways as we see fit , but act towards it we must.!

I would like for you to understand one thing about somalis, when we say i am somali it means that the majesty of our HISTORY starts with me and did not end with my forefathers. secondly i think that u have at the most very limited knowledge of your history or culture and the steel that is our people. it is good that you have no reverence, but when you are arguing a point you have to atleast clarify your position and state an alternative. or all you can claim to be is a BLOOD POISONER

Reality Can't be sterilized Illegalized Secretized Mystified In the climax Of crucial moments We must always Take out our feelings Express them By capturing the mood Through the rays Of early sunrise Deep within Ourselves And chant the words Contained in the chapters Of sufferation Liberation Plus celebration Of Africa!

I do not want our love To start in flames For We will stay hot for so long But in the end Tremble into ashes And the biting cold I do not want our love To start as a fresh life For It will end as pure death And marks of our graves Will haunt our empty selves I do not even want our love To start as a bright new day For Light is not here to stay Dusk will break our hearts And throw the fragments away I want our love To start like...like... Oh! I do not even know.

The day after my own private hell, of reeking tables and pens, that chose that moment not to work, and rubbers that defying all laws of nature refused to erase, the day so stunning that i promised to mail a letter bomb to mr. randal for his messed up erasures. when the second one refused to erase i seriously considerd changing my dissertation to rubbers that do not erase, angolan kids and yellow fever would have to wait. but it was my day and survived my exams. making my way to the cafe , happy and expectant like a prom date hoping(now dont be coy) wanting to get laid. It was after he had entered the cafe, paid for his glass of beer, looked for an empty table, that I spotted him. He had a glass full of beer in his right hand and grey gloves on the other. He moved briskly across the floor, passed people who were drinking, smoking and talking noisly, until he reached the empty table. Hesitatingly, he pulled up a chair. Sat down and unzipped his brown coat. I heard him clear his throat. His eyes moved around and finally settled on the glass of beer that he had put on the table. He cleared his throat once again and took a long gulp. He wiped his mouth with the back of his left hand. I could easily estimate that he was over fifty by the greyness of his hair, and the multitude of wrinkles running chaotically across his face; like gulleys. He did not look like he belonged where he was sitting. There was an air of turbulent temporarity around him. He seemed distant and drowned in a stream of thoughts. A little while later, when I started to think about him, I saw him confirming something that was crossing his mind. He nodded his head from time to time, and moved his hands, like he was discussing an important issue with someone that only he could see. It could have been bills! I thought. An impending divorce, or a quarell with his boss. It could have been anything, but it was quite obvious that something was eating his mind. He was being mercillesly devoured by the invisible teeth of life. Then I caught my own reflection in the mirror that was on the wall in front of me. I saw myself sitting there, drinking herbal tea and letting my mind wander aimlessly; killing time. Watching myself in the mirror, a sudden feeling creeped through me, a sensation, that I too was being watched from my left. I turned around and saw a bearded man looking at me. He was partly hidden. I had seen him before, in town, but I could not remember where.Our eyes met like clashing searchlights. I wanted to give him a wink but immediately changed the idea. He had been looking at me as I spied on the Stranger. The room was filled with noise and smoke. In the middle of all this was the Stranger. I could see the Stranger through the smoke that filled the room. I fixed my eyes on him without him noticing, and after a while I started to see all of him rising up. He was being reincarnated in the misty cloud of cigarette smoke that was wafting under the neon light. It was a spectacular scene. He was rising together with the chair that he was sitting on, pluss the table, as well as the glass of beer, which was now half empty. He was lifted up in the smoke like a master yogi meditating above mountain Kilimanjaro, and thus I fixed my eyes on him even more. From the corner of my eye I saw that even the bearded guy sitting to my left was looking at the Stranger with a growing intensity. So now, we were in fact, two people sitting and spying on the Stranger, from two different angles. Three jazz musicians were playing softly on the stage. Now and then, the waitress came and cleared the tables. After a while, I straightened up to look at the Stranger, and he was gone. At the table, where he had been sitting was only an empty glass of beer, and an ashtray. And except for the transparent glass, the space around the table looked exactly as it was before I spotted the Stranger. An old somali man my father may be yours doesnt matter he was there i was there and u ave been bro,sis, dont worry u have been. i went to my cupboard come apartment, i got my girl there and i who am so passive hit across the face and her back and...what does it matter all that matters is she she cried at my feet looking at me like i knew something and i did cause the stranger left me something a picture. of YOU!

A dark tuff of hair, exposed on a bright early summer day. It looked as if a stray brush of an amateur painter had splashed graffiti on a tube station wall in a hurried manner, and then had left it to dry. In this way the moustache drooped from one corner of his upper lip to the other. When he spoke the moustache responded to the conspiquous twists and turns of whatever story he was telling. His hands seemed like they were hacking the air in a ritualistic repetition. As usual, the first thing that I noticed was the moustache.However, I wouldn’t have noticed the restlessness on yusuf eyes had he not taken off his sunglasses, upon his apparent surprise of seeing me coming strolling along the park. He greeted me before I came to his arm’s length, and I could sense that he felt relieved, that I finally came within his focus. In my own way, and perhaps for different reasons,of course it is hard to figure out which one I mean; I too felt nice, that I met him. I had walked from my flat just to enjoy fresh air and cool down myself after I had eaten a big portion of rice and beans. I did not have much to choose from my kitchen. yusuf looked charged up and deeply drowned in a conversation with two guys whom I had not seen in town before. “Give me a break, man!” yusuf said loud , same time as he was exhaling smoke from the cigarette that he was smoking. He was doing this all the times as he spoke. He turned around and looked at me. I interpreted his facial expression like he expected me to side with him. That is, before I even knew what was going on. He seemed desperate.”Give me a break!” He said, almost shouting, with a crack in his voice. “But it is wrong to say so before you have found out the truth.” One of the guys said to yusuf . “I know the truth. It must be them. None other could have done that. They are the ones that have stolen my amulet!” “Oh!” One of the guys said. “An amulet?” The other one said with a gasp in his voice. “Yes, an amulet that I have been carrying with me for the past ten years. My protection,you see. I am going to make sure that they will curse their own mothers for this. Just wait.” “Hey, take it easy. It is not the amulet that is the thing.” The first guy said. “Yes it is true yusuf.You also have to reduce drinking alcohol.” The second one added. “You people you don’t know what you are talking about. These people want to destroy my life.” “And you believe in that?” The two guys said, almost in a chorus. And I stood there listening. yusuf and I had been out dancing at Peaches the night before. He did not mentioning a word about the stolen amulet. But according to the two guys, whom I overheard as I stood there, yusuf had claimed that he had lost the amulet almost a week before. I felt it was kind of strange that he did not mention the incident to me, though while we were at Peaches he had talked a lot about witchcraft, to my surprise. One of the guys, who was also smoking took a long final drag, inhalled deeply and let out a pall of smoke that hung lazily around his face. It then thinned out in the soft wind that blew simultaneously. He threw the butt on the green grass and flattened it under his left foot. The two guys seemed little interested in me and they did not bother to introduce themselves. Neither did I feel like introducing myself. It was more strange that even yusuf did not introduce them to me, neither me to them. That did not matter so much however. It was expected and I didn’t care. It was a national day celebration. A holiday. The park was bursting with people; thousands of them. Some waving flags and everybody was dressed up special. The colourful festivities had started early in the morning. I was woken up by the noise of the many brass bands that were leading the parades in the streets. Not a single car was allowed to drive in the streets downtown as it was teeming with people. Everybody seemed happy. Up above, the sun was scorching. On the outdoor wooden stage(that had been hastily put together at the park for the occassion) musicians were setting up their instruments; amplifiers, guitars, a keyboard and a set of conga drums. “The band will soon be on stage,” one of them said on the microphone, and the crowd clapped and shouted. It was building up to the climax. The ice cream sellers were making good sales. Street sellers that were selling children items were all smilling because the business was going good. One of the guys,(the one who was smoking), was the shorter of the two and had a somewhat funny look. The other had eyes that seemed to be fixed at nowhere. It was thus harder to go through any attempt of scrutinizing their physiognomy. At least I did not get their names and they did not get mine, because they left in a sudden hurry.They literary got lost in the crowd. yusuf just waved them away saying a bye-bye-catch-you later sort of thing. “Seems like I have interrupted you.” “No man, cool down.” yusuf told me. “But your friends left in what seemed to like be a hurry.” “Yeah, but we had already finished what we were talking about by the time you came.” He said while looking at me with his drooping eyes. He put on his sunglasses, took out his tobacco packet from his pocket, rolled one, and asked me for a lighter. “No, I do not have one. I am trying to stop smoking these days. It’s getting expensive,” I told him. He did not say anything, not even show any sign that he had heard what I said. He fumbled in his jacket and he drew out a match box. He cuped his hands and lit a cigarette while leaning his head on one side. I could notice that he was trembling a bit. The light flickered for a while, producing a flashy, momentous reflection on his dark sunglasses. “You see, let me tell you the truth.” He said to me as he exhaled the smoke. “Whap’n now man.” “Some people too wicked.They have stolen my amulet because they want to destroy me but they don’t know nothing man. I tell you that thing will get back to them and they’ll suffer.” yusuf was wearing a heavy leather jacket and had a sweater underneath, though it was a warm day. He looked like he had missed three days meals consequtively. A surviving general. A hussler of high calibre. By now the band had been through four numbers and were announcing that the next was their last. “We’ll see each other again.” The crowd cheered and people were dancing in the sun. It was really happening. 'You really better reduce the drinking alcohol' I thought about what one of the two guys had said to yusuf. I was however not sure about the amulet business. Whether it was a true story or one of his many antics, that he normaly came up with when life seemed like a typhoon sweeping across the coast. It was not easy to distinguish.This happened many times with yusuf that even when he talked about the amulet I automatically got a stiff reaction. Was he pulling out another story this time again? “Where are you going to.” He asked me. “I am taking a stroll. I just finished eating and I felt it was kind of getting airless in my flat.” “I am expecting a cheque tomorrow.Can I borrow some money from you?” yusuf had forgotten that only a week before he had told me that he had lost his wallet and I had borrowed him my last cash. I had neither seen the cheque nor the money since. Now you know who yusuf is, man, bro, sis you know him the two bit hustla so high he has built a castle in the air and rented it out, that is my yusuf that is your yusuf. of indiscriminate age looking over 40 but knowing that it is impposible, sometimes when i watch him seize up a farah strolling into the gerege looking blank and smelling feral, i wonder if he had a choice if he would be a great asexual being living for nothing but the next rush from a pickpocketing, from the convincing of some fool who should have paid more attention to his lineage. That he indeed is his third uncle twice or even when absolutley neccesary six times removed. or when, and when he tells u this his moustache seems to go into exstacys of balletic twirling, about the time he convinced a man of the possibilty, no probabilty that he could turn kismayo into the sand manufacturing capital of the world. dont be ashamed he has fooled even me once or twice. yusuf is dying he does not eat , he does not sleep, the world refers to him in pejoratives, in kenya, warya, in america... well i know ur busy just consider this specimen , yusuf , ur blood ur flesh. treat him as u will or as you all ways have. but when someone or something closes the book on us all , like HE, IT has misunderstood something in this experiment called somalis and wants to start all over again , then tell me who will survive . you or yusuf?

my point is illustrated aboe more divisiveness and ppl building castles in the air, talkin about borders that only exist in their feverish minds. if selfdetermination is taken to such an extent i want a free yirowe distrct and i want it now!

Bro sijui, the diffrence btwn neocons and the restis that they are less diplomatic in their politics, nobody would me commenting if they would simle as they shoot-alcapone

WHO HAS BEEN CONOLIZING PUNTLAND FOR IT TO DECLARE "INDEPENDENCE"? :confused: IF ON THE OTHER HAND U ARE TALKIN ABOUT SUCESSION THEN WHAT IS ITS CASUSS BELII TO DO SO? WHERE DO ITS BORDES BEGIN OR END, AND TO WHICH ADMINISTRATION SHALL POWER BE SUCEDED? BROTHER DEEP SOMALIS HAVE A WAY OF CREATING BIGGER PROBLEMS THAN THERE ARE ALREADY, AS WHAT CAN BE TERMED A PUNTLANDER I SEE IT AS NOTHIN BUT A GLORIFIED FIEFDOM THAT IS FACED WITH THE SAME HYENAS THAT WOULD LOVE TO EXTINGUISH THE PPL LIVING THERE. IF ANYTHING WE ALL HAVE TO DECLARE "INDEPENDENCE " FROM THE THINKING AND THOSE THAT WISH TO DIVIDE SOMALIA INTO TINPOT AND BANANA REPUBLICS

that is the most candy coverd bull shyte i have ever read. i feel sorry for you No realy i do. :cool:

i think that africas problems start from the assumption that democracy is the only answer, we are asking the same insipid questions. can a system devised next to the potomac be transferred in totality to the banks of the congo i think not. secondly the more i look at democracy the more it seems it is the most effective way of people enslaving themselves. i might not be politically correct, but i donot and cannot start off the mark with "democracy is the panecea to all".

we have already lost our dignity shuold we also loose our blood purity, and to all of those micsegenated somalis who constantly harp about how there half this and that, you will always be nothing but a WARIYA, so stop harping about chinese roots and lebanese branches.

I understand your position and i am gratified at how well you put your case, as for sophist all i can say after reconsidering sincerely and honestly my postion is that he really does deserve his nickname.