Apparently my name isnt sexy at all, for there is no Z in the list.

i am sure the sheikh when he said you are going to be great and do great things,meant you are going to have a lot of kids and be a good house wife. Cute & Predictable. Wlcm Back OG Moti. Change/improve yourself before you change the world. Worry about the scorpian on you lap rather than the flies around someone else's face. The main purpose of our live is to worship Allah, everything else is secondary. That is waht I tell myself---anyway everything you do is important and effects someone in some way. So you might be able to change the world--one person at a time.

Btw, why is it ok to insult the guys, in the case of FF ("the lazy, qaat-chewing, shiisha smoking, internet-cafe sitting, welfare taking, irresponsible, and immature, Somali men"), and when the women are picked on, the admin is so itchy all of a sudden? Unless, of course it was personal and vulgar! Excuse me? He did not pick on women, but me personally. :rolleyes: My response to yours was done in light-heartedness as I am sure that you've done; but some people have problems and see things that arent there. I am finished here anyway--do not have time to converse with delusional people. P.S. I replied to the original and the Admin erased mine too.

There was no name calling and I didn't use the f-word,B-word and N-word as in Nayaa,but i did call the sister abaayo. I did see what the admin erased, and yes you did insult me shyhem in the worst possible way. I never would have thought that a muslim brother would say the stuff you said about me. Please read your signature again and reflect on it this time. Let's just say i talked about a girl and young boys driving their momma's mini van. There you go again attacking my character and accusing me of being loose. Why don't you be a man and say what you really mean Shyhem? People who have just read this might not get it---but in your last post, that has been kindly deleted by the Admin, you were reffering to me. Istaqfuruallah. Isku xishood oo nin iska dhiq Shyhem. You have no manners whatsoever and you disgust me. Femme Damn u must be so naive, i kinda feel like u'r maacalin dugsi.I won't mind wiping u with my cimmamad (turban){excuse my spelling}. I might be naive. That can be changed. But you have a character problem Shyhem and frankly, I feel pity towards you. You are too insignificant for me to bother to reply to from here on. Nin sida dhoocil u caaytama waligeey mid ka foolxun ma arkin. Illahayow nimankeena rag ka dhiq. Ameen. Salaam

I think I understand where you are coming from OG Girl, although I do not agree. You are not talking about fairness or whether or not justice was served in this case, but that the law applied fit the crime commited by these somali men. One has to obey the laws of the country, respect it, or deal with the consequences. Peace

The politics section is getting really interestng. For those who have asked the dim-witted Q of why we are not concerned about the rest of the atrocities taking place on home-ground, we are. It just isn’t the topic here. LOL. Nail on the head walahi. I find it odd that people have to bring up other cases to defend their position on the present one. Past injustices do not justify or excuse present ones. OK?

Women seem to be an interesting subject to examine and disect these past few days. Oh well *pulls up sleeves* MVP--I find it scary how much you know about women and their needs, wants, desires--its almost as if your one of us! :eek: first let's talk about american Domestic violence laws, this laws are designed to destroy families NOT protect women. Is this coming from a bitter experince, luv? Don't let your past experience cloud your judgement and common sense. Domestic violence laws prevent men from exercising the leadership that most women actually want. So I suppose beating, assualting, raping, denying women their rights as wifes, failing to provide for her and her children, are considered leadership qualitites? what most somali women don't understand is that After this fateful act, she loses all control. The state prosecutes her husband whether she likes it or not. He is jailed and prohibited from returning home. **** up his record for the rest of his life And whose fault is that now? Is the only way a man would respect his women, is being scared shitless of the police? Evil forces that have subverted governments are using feminism and lesbianism to destabilize society I simply love men and their paranoia and conspiracies about feminists and lesbians. How adorable. Almost makes me want to cuddle them. Men -- steer clear of any sexual relationship where you are not in charge. Let me correct you on this, before you lead some men here astray. Men, stay clear of any sexual relationship in which your partner is not your wife. Man wants power. Women want love (not power.) They ARE different. Thats funny. I want both. What does that make me? A woman is a vehicle by nature. She is waiting for a man's call. She wants to be used by the man she loves for a higher purpose. One such purpose is to create a healthy happy family. I find this insulting and deeply offensive. A man, therefore, should have a clear idea of what he wants, and the role he wants a woman to play. Then he finds a wife who meets HIS criteria instead of contorting himself for every sexually attractive woman he meets. Let me guess. It's the woman's fault that men have such weak characters?

I am in Canada MT . Not that I am impressed. And hate is such a strong emotion which I reserve for special people, I prefer disappointed. Ngonge: So your love/adoration for someone is supposed to make light of the fact that you (as you describe yourself) are a lazy, irresponsible, unreliable bum? :rolleyes: Underdog: I suppose. But the nagging, critizing, welfare-taking, are all a result of the actions of the men. If they were niman rag ah, their women would treat them right. As for the 30m dollar wedding, is it the woman's fault that her father loved her enough to shower her materially with his affection? That just brings a tear to my eye. How incredibly loving and generous. *sniff*

LOOOOOOL@Admin. Aniga: Brother, dont take it to heart. I was merely responding to your generalization of the somali women as "spoiled", in kind.

This fella is a bad example for the already spoiled somali women, isn't it, fellas? No: Actually, he happens to be an excellent example for the lazy, qaat-chewing, shiisha smoking, internet-cafe sitting, welfare taking, irresponsible, and immature, Somali men.

get this shit out of this section, you think this is a beauty salon or something, for goodness sake! That was very rude and uncalled for. Mixii kaa tari laheyd hadaa dhahdi "meel qalad ah baa ku soo qortey"? :rolleyes: If you look at the number of posts the sister made...this was her second. Isku xishood oo nin iska dhiq. Salaam

^^For all these who are crying for these people; The few years I am dealing with courts and law where I live thought me not to be so emotional like most of you here. I would leave with this Quote: Was that directed at me? If it was; you'll have to excuse me dear. I don't have time to reply to it...for the computer screen is getting hazy through my tears, my nose is dripping and I'm beating my fists on my chest with pain and deep anguish. *cries hysterically* :rolleyes: It's funny how emotions are thrown up as excuse to undermine or put down a person's opinoin. If not OG: You'll have to excuse me then.

I do not have sympathy for these men because they are somali--that is not of great importance to me. I feel sorry for them because they were not given fair sentence for the crimes they have commited. And I would feel that way for anyone---regardless of nationality or religion. One of the great things about Islam is its sense of justice, which was obviously overlooked in this case. Some might wonder why certain people are alot harsher on the actions of Arabia as compared to other muslim countries: The simple reason being that we expect Arabia to be our example to look up to. It contains two of the holiest cities in Islam, and that was where our blessed Prophet (scw) and his companions were raised and spread the message of Islam. So it is very important to us...and we care what happens there. It is not out of malice or jealousy--but genuine concern for the plight of the muslim ummah. Of course, there are some losers who just are haters.

Very true. Allah ha u naxariisto oo jannah fardousa ka waraabiyo, ameen.

^^I am curious, what did you erase? Or did you just feel like putting your face there for no reason whatsoever Zu? <---Today I feel HOT! You can interpret it either way you like.

I have this very large map of somali in my room--from my mother hoping that I would learn the different regions and such. I haven't been paying any attention to it for over two years and out of curiousity and plain boredom today...I decided to check it out. Well!! I came across this area with the most embarassing/halarious name ever. I wonder who came up with it? I cannot imagine anyone proudly and with a straight face claiming to hail from that region. Hint: Think Cigaal Shidaad's Hometown. Can you guess where I am talking about? P.S. Are there any other weird names?

I just remembered a somali maah maah that perfectly fits this little situation here: "Markii been la sheegayo....mid run u eg baa la sheegaa". That story is the biggest fib I have heard since my auntie told me babies came from belly buttons!

*Hugs* Phanta.

As far as I recall, I don’t think if I confirmed or otherwise the results of that “planâ€! So, what are the results? Don't be so mean-hearted as to keep us waiting.

LOL!I think you misunderstood what I was saying: I have been thinking, well you see everytime we meet someone we like and we hope to forget out past, the questions of when was the last time u been on a date? How long did it last? why did you break up? questions about the past never seem to end, I was refering to those kind of relationship questions. Those your thinking about are major issues that need to be addressed, definatley not swept under the rug.

Your past is just that--- yours. It isn't anyone else's business, no matter how close you are to each other, to delve into it if you feel uncomfortable or do not want to talk about it. There is no moral obligation whatsoever; and I don't understand people who readily supply information that is private or that can be used against them (for those who have something they feel ashamed in their past). Yes, some people have a shadowy past---but people change. And therefore, there is no use in repeating a story that ending years ago. They should be allowed to go through that transition as smoothly as possible---without having to remind them constantly by relentless questions of what!Where!Whos!and Whys!? That chapter ended, so the book should be closed. What would another person gain from that kind of information? I say---tell them to shut the hell up and focus on the present.

You girls don't think that this is a true story, do you? I assumed that it was a made-up story so that the poster could make a point about an issue that's important to us as muslims. This is too far out to be real.

I guess with the anonymousity(?) of the internet people tend to forget that they would be accountable for what they pen down. It becomes exciting that one could become a totally differnt person on-line, act out their fantacies without consequences, or have just say what ever that one wants. But as in all things, there is a fine line between having fun---and commiting dambi. There are boundaries in place--which some people carelessly step over. The message is important and worthwile to heed---whether it is from a wadaad or from anyone else. The intentions or actionss of the Wadaad (?) is not relevant for important here---what is important is. How does that affect you*? Do you see yourself in those comments? And are you willing to do something about it? Do not shot the messenger because the message isn't to your liking. Good day! * You is general public.

1. --Our Knowledge -- Wasted by not taking action with it or benefiting others. 2. --Our Actions -- Wasted by committing them with out sincerity and for the right cause. 3. --Our Wealth -- Wasted by using on things that will not bring us ajar. We waste our money, our status, our authority, on things which have no benefit in this life or in akhirah. We do not share the blessings that Allah has kindly bestowed on us. 4. --Our Hearts -- Wasted because they are empty from the love of Allah, and the feeling of longing to go to Him, and a feeling of peace and contentment. In it's place, our hearts are filled with something or someone else. 5. --B]Our Bodies[/b] -- Wasted because we don't use them in ibadah and service of Allah. And we do not take good care of them. 6. --Our Love -- Our emotional love is misdirected, not towards Allah, but towards something/someone else. 7. --Our Time -- Wasted, not used properly, to compensate for that which has passed, by doing what is righteous to make up for past deeds 8. --Our Intellect -- Wasted on things that are not beneficial, that are detremental to society and the individual, not in contemplation or reflection. 9. --Our Service -- Wasted in service of someone who will not bring us closer to Allah, or benefit in dunyaa 10. --Our Dhikr -- Wasted, because it does not effect us or our hearts. Source

Unless I see you, I get no nourishment from sleep, Like a young camel I bellow out to you. I am to you as a she-camel is to her adopted calf, When her own has been killed. By running hard, and with good luck, I shall obtain you; I have made that my pledge, A camel burdened with curved hut-poles broke loose and ran over me; He set me alight like a blazing log-fire. I saw you in a dream, adorned for a wedding-feast; I cry out to you - have trust in me! Somalia is a nation of brads. African gateway to the Middle East, its thorny, parched pastures barely support the herdsmen - more than 60 percent of the population - who tread the country's million square kilometers (400,000 square miles) of desert. Their hard life is softened, however, by the clink of their camels' bells and the taste of their camels' milk, drunk warm and sweet in a hut of branch and hide. With the milk, the Somalis drink in and are nourished by stories related in verse - stories that, after prayer to God and the celebration of rainfall, are one of the strongest elements that feed the Somali spirit and unify the Somali nation. The 19th-century British explorer Richard Burton described these gifted verbalists in his book First Footsteps in East Africa. "The country teems with poets," he wrote. "Every man has his recognised position in literature as accurately defined as though he had been reviewed in a century of magazines - the fine ear of this people causing them to take the greatest pleasure in harmonious sounds and poetic expressions. Every chief in the country must have a panegyric to be sung by his clan, and the great patronize light literature by keeping a poet." Poetry is the luxury of people so poor in material goods that a family's possessions can be carried on a camel's back. Their homes are hoops of branch and briar, set in the sand and covered with hides and emptied grain sacks to break the searing winds. Survival requires the constant movement of their goats, cows, and treasured dromedaries from water hole to water hole; they walk hundreds of kilometers annually to keep their stock alive. This is not the life of people who can afford to define their cultural identity by material handicrafts whose style is handed down through generations; rather, it is the life of a people who have had to turn inward to survive, building their culture out of nothing more concrete than religion, language, dreams and humor. The late president of Somalia, Abdi-rashid Ali Shermarke, spoke of the country's pastoral verse as "one of two national assets of inestimable value," ranking it just behind the Muslim faith as a cherished national tradition. As Islam provides a way of life and defines a relationship with God, so poetry provides a way of speech and thought and defines a relationship with the things of this world. And it provides too a way to articulate, in skilled and satisfying forms, the questions every human being asks. Once I wore a fine red-brown mantle, and carried a rhinoceros-hide whip. I was looked upon with esteem as one among the best of humankind. But then my backbone grew short and shrank, did it not? I even had to stop for a night's rest, did I not, When traveling a distance so short that shouting voices could have spanned it. I was passed and left behind on the way, was I not, By everyone along the route that trekking hamlets take. I had to give up carrying weapons altogether, did I not, Except for a stick to support myself. The men begotten by men whom I begot refused to lend me their aid, The women who were married to me wished me dead, did they not? "Give me foodl" I shouted, did I not - impatiently, like a child. The shameful things against which I had guarded myself Have now come upon me, clear as the light of day, Have they not? In those attributes, Somali poetry is like poetry everywhere. But in addition, in Somalia, well-shaped and whetted verse has a function beyond literature: it is also the key to mass communication, serving as advertisement, instrument of influence and path to power in a turbulent land. Whereas poetry has little influence in the daily life of most citizens of industrialized nations, in Somalia the poet is a person of prestige and power, respected for his cleverness and sometimes even feared for his afmishaar — his "mouth like a saw." The role of the poet includes some of the functions of starmaker, journalist and advocate. In highly stylized, alliterative phrases, he argues his case or tells his tales—the latter in effect the news of the day—elevating warrior to demigod and fool to satirical legend. His words are delivered in the Somali language—a Cushitic tongue spoken by the entire population of eight million, and rich in the pleasure it gives to the listener when well-chosen words come together with elegance and cadence. Poetic performance in Somalia is not casual or informal, as it might be in Paris cafés or on street corners of college towns—and it is explicitly competitive. Formal gatherings in the shade of acacia groves often include a panel of hoary elders of literary merit, called heerbeegti, who serve as judges for the poetry competitions. These may last for weeks as poets rebut one another in a lengthy test of talent and stamina. Winners gain fame and prestige for their clan as well as livestock for them selves; in a country where verbal damage to an enemy may be more wounding than physical harm, counting a poet among one's clan members can be as valuable as an armory of swords. Poets are divided into four classes, by skill. On the highest level, and most valued as an orator, is the afmaal, literally "mouth of wealth." He is an individual of towering prestige, built on the reputation of never losing a competition or a case he argues. Second in rank is the aftahan or "generous mouth"; with facile tongue he occupies a position nearly as respected as the afmaal. In third place comes the afmishaar. af meaning "mouth" and mishaar meaning "saw". This class of orators has emerged with the development of nationalist mass politics and impersonal party-political organization; their words are incisive and usually used to vilify. The fourth and lowest class of public speaker is the afgaroo, the "deformed mouth." These speakers are mercilessly ridiculed for their lack of poetic prowess and their foolish refusal to accept their lack of ability. Accompanying the poets, and hanging on their every word, are the hafidayaal, the memorizers whose skills allow them to transmit and disseminate, like gusts in the desert, the magic of what they have heard. As nomadic societies in Somalia are for the most part cut off from news of the outside, it is the hafidayaal who bring information and entertainment from outside the family or clan and who interconnect these groups in their constant traveling. So great is the speed at which the poets' words reach distant ears that the nomads claim the poetry is carried by jinn, by genies in the wind. Somalia did not possess a written language until 1973, when the Latin alphabet was put to Somali phonetics; until then, people who wanted songs and words in their heads had to either memorize someone else's or compose their own. Thus, memorization is as much a skill to be honed and tended in this culture as milking camels, and the training begins at an early age with the required rote learning of nearly half the 114 suras, or chapters, of the Qur'an and strong familiarity with the remaining chapters. The verses are learned by ear, for a Somali proverb says that "he who looks at paper never becomes a memorizer," and the skills of listening and repeating are gradually applied to the creation of poetry. Part of the training thereafter is informal. "I can remember the evening bonfires around which the children would gather," says Dr. Ahmed Artan Hanghee, dean of the Institute of Arts under the Somali Academy of Science and Arts. "The storytellers would come and start recounting the past history of the clan. Then the poets would take over and entertain. The rules of poetry have never been written; they are just absorbed and understood." But that doesn't make them easy. Classical poetry, considered the domain of the nomads and the purest form of the language, is lengthy in presentation and strict in style. There are stringent rules of meter and of alliteration, compounded by metrical counts that vary with the length of syllables. Thus the length of its vowel determines whether a syllable counts as either one or two moras, or units. Classical poetry must have 20 to 22 moras per line, as well as a pause after the 12th unit and two words per line that share the same initial letter. In Somali, the first two lines of the poem on page 33 are: Inta Khayli dhuugyaha cas iyo, dheeh wiyil ah qaatay. E dhallaanka Aadnigu u baxo, sidatan lay dhawray. A second style of poetry, called anigarar, has 17 to 18 moras per line, and four other genres employ successively decreasing numbers of units, down to five per line. Woman poets compete in a separate genre of their own called buranbur, with similarly precise rules. The words are metaphorical, rarely direct, Hanghee says. Most poetry contains the symbol of the camel, which can embody the notions of beauty, woman, provider of life, food, fragile temperament or freedom, or the ideal of nationhood. "Somali poets talk in the abstract," says Hanghee. "You'll find one describing the beauty of a camel, but what he really means is Somali liberty and independence. Or the subject of the poem might be a horse, but he's really describing the woman he loves. The waves of the Indian Ocean become the waves of decolonization and the freeing of Africa." He who has goats has a garment full ofcorn; A milk cow is a temporary vanity; A he-camel is the muscle that sustains life; A she-camel—whoever may have her—is the mother of men." This poem by Mohamed Abdullah Hassan, known in Somali history as a heroic fighter against the British, contrasts the impermanence and fugitive value of grain a commodity dependent on the weather and the season, soon consumed—and a milk cow—stable and useful but, like the goat, part of the realm of women and boys with those things that represent longterm benefit and strength: the male camel as the muscle that sustains life and the she-camel as the giver of life. As the pastoralists put it, "Men and camels thrive on each other." For urban poets, for whom radio has replaced the hafidayaal and the disseminating jinn, stylized sentences have a different significance than they do in the bush. These practitioners are likely to recite not in an acacia grove but before an audience of 1000 at the National Theatre in the capital city, Mogadishu, or for educated goverment employees taking an afternoon tea break around someone's radio. The poet here is not so interested in contributing to a godob, or vendetta, or in praising a tribal leader at the expense of his rivals. Rather, his poetry is used by public officials as a form of public relations, dispelling fears afoot in the community and extolling hard work and cooperative enterprise. And because poetry can be used both for and against the government, poets are under the watchful eyes of administrators. Their poems are noted for their political correctness—or lack of it—and poets who speak in support of government policies are treated well by officials. Their verse may make the airwaves of Radio Mogadishu; they may be commissioned by the Ministry of Information to write a series of lines defending the recent peace pact along the Ethiopian border, or lamenting the evils of tribalism that still wrack the country. On the other hand, such poets may lose their credibility among their literary following. The urban poet who carries a less acceptable opinion in his heart, even if his message is coded in animal and environmental imagery, usually keeps his art discreetly underground, and circulates it on cassette tapes. Politically inoffensive poetry may make its way into the single daily newspaper in the country, Hiddigta Oktoobar (October Star). In a country where two-thirds of the population is nomadic and barely half the people can read, however, the written word is not the favored medium of verse: Recitation from memory is, and to know, to remember and to convince are the three requirements which all poets must meet and by which their work and its performance are judged. The eye contact, intonation and information of the poetic recital has worked miracles outside the realm of formal performances, as well. Somalis tell the story of an ****** chief who went to the tree of an enemy tribe and offered 114 poetic points of introduction and then another 114 points of argument, in honor of the number of chapters in the Qur'an. According to the legend, the chief spent days convincing the tribe that a negotiated peace was at hand, while actually keeping the enemy spellbound, buying time for his approaching warriors. By the hundredth point of argument, two days later—a performance played entirely from memory—he had lulled the opposing tribe to sleep; his army arrived and slew them. The settlement of nomads and the migration of rural people to the city over the last half-century have diminished the role of poetry in Somalia. Although the words of the past live on and are revered by older people, the capital city crawls with boys and young men sent from their pastures to the city for schooling. Time is passed sitting in tea shops and wandering along the Makarama, Mogadishu's main street, greeting friends. To city youth, poetry is debate they tune in on the radio from time to time, an art they know about but likely won't absorb into their own lives. Each may remember a particular presentation, perhaps one given by his uncle under the palely luminescent moon; each may hear a poem on someone's cassette tape recorder phrased in words that make his back shiver. But poetry is not a course offered at the Somali National University, and skill at recitation is not a goal for which these young men will burn the midnight oil, hoping for honors and a cow or a goat as a prize. And unless the rhythms and the skills are in their blood—unless they've known them since they were no bigger than the goats they once herded—they are not likely to become perpetuators of one of their country's most precious artistic customs. "In larger cities, with education and urbanization, poetry is not as popular as it once was, 100 years ago in the Somali-lands," Hanghee adds. "Younger generations there just aren't that interested. The nomads' culture is conservative and stable, so at least in the outlands poetry is not dying. But in the cities, Western technology carries with it the Western culture. Some parts of the technology help preserve this element of our culture, other parts help destroy it. The young people are involved with their music and videos; for poetry, they don't really much care." Cassette tapes passed from hand to hand and group to group are one of modern technology's contributions to Somali poetry. Radio is another: Agrarian tribes in the south communicate with the nomads of the north through poetic debates aired on the national radio. In another, perhaps less positive, influence, classical poetry is giving way to modern forms composed with shorter lines, less alliteration, and cadences that can be put to music. Yet the language of classical Somali poetry retains its purity through memory, and religious poetry, recited in Arabic, also serves as an anchor to tradition, breathing energy and hope into the population. Change is afoot, though perhaps only a change of style: Surely the practice of poetry itself cannot die out in Somalia. Listen, ye men! God's judgment, I say to you, is ageless,unbending. And I am forever a poet. When I am weary, and want no friendbut peace, And say to you, 'This night my songsare done,' Your clamorous voices still would forcefrom me One ballad more to warm thedwindling fire. Source