Che, maxaa ugu jawaabtay marka? Barbaarta Islii ayeeba buuxaan ee Kenyaatigaan maxee been iskugu sheegayaan. Nuunka, adiga marka tagtid Kaakuma gacan laguu taagaa. Waligaa Kaakuma ma tagtay?

Tagitaankooda 'photo op' sakoow waxee dadka tusineysaa at least inay daneynayaan dadkooda 21 sano ku rafaadsan xerooyinkaas. Dhiirogelinna wey u tahay walaalaheena ku rafaadsan deegaankaas. Yaab ila tahay wali, xero saas u weyn, oo dad badan caalamka ka tirsan wada booqday, yet no so-called Soomaali leader visited ever. Che, sheekada naga yaree nooh. Wax kalaa u tagtee waa ognahayee.

Dhagaxleey u shidan ayaa la dhahaa ileen waa run. Meeqo qof lagu sheegaa degan Dhagaxleey, Nuunka.

GoldCoast;792838 wrote: LOL is this the surprise folks were telling us to watch out for. So you mean to tell me PM David Cameron sat down with diaspora groups and even a Universal TV interview, but didn't have time to meet the President? BBC Soomaali, too. They had 'exclusive' wareysi of him that was broadcast today.

They (Western media and NGOs) say this is the largest refugee camp in the world. Yet, no Soomaali leader had ever visited it. Ever. Walaa Shariifyada, walaa kii ka horeeye ee C/llaahi Yuusuf, walaa Geedi, Nuur Cadde, Ina C/rashiid, Farmaajo iyo kan hadda joogo ee Ina Gaas. Walaa Aaden Madoobe markuu guddoomiyaha baarlamaanka ahaa. None whatsoever soo caga dhigay those camps -- Dhagaxleey, Ifoow iyo Xagardheere -- Soomaali badan ka buuxaan. Had iyo jeerna Nayroobi lagama waayo. Weird. Very werid. Danjiraha Cali Ameerika ugu roon oo ka mid ah qofka kaliya masuul sheegto gaaray deegaankaas.

Soomaaliya dhanba wax 'free' ku helay iska yar. Dad baa u geeriyooday, dadna wee u soo saxariiroodeen. Sayidka ka koow yahay. Dad baa waliba xaanshi u laqay badbaadinta qarankeena. Kala goyntiisana wax loo dulqaadan karo ma'aha. Dheel dheel kula ahaa. Hooyo Soomaaliyeed ayaa ereyadaan hore ugu buraanburtay: Maxaa diideen, dalkeenii maxaa dayacay? Maxaad doonaysaan waa idinkan cidlada degayee? Damiir xumadiina qarankii ka dhigay daleel Haddaad dal shisheeye joogtaan damiir la’aan Oo aad ku doodaan nabad baanu u nahay diyaar Haddana diidaan wixii daawo dhalin lahaa War yaa dabiibaaya qarankan dugaagu helay? Qaranka Soomaaliya dad badan baa u galay qabriga Rag baa qaadan waayey gumaysiga quursigiis Rag baa ka qawaafay asaagaa qabaan u noqo Rag baa soo qaaday calankeena qaaliga ah Rag baa qalin dahab ah taariiqda loogu qoray

Showqi;792648 wrote: That is a lot of walk, how long did it take him? 2,,3 hours Qof Xamar ku barbaaray oo waa hore ugu dambeysayna, that won't be a long walk, but a needed one. Anigaba haddaa Xamar aadi lahaa, Siliga Mareykanka oo degmada Wadajir ku taalo anigoo lug kasoo bilaabay ilaa iyo Kaaraan waaku gaari lahaa without daal because xaraarad iyo xiiso aan Xamar u haayo, inkastoo 2003 tagay. ______________________ Turkey - Somalia aid pioneers? Somalia remains a notoriously hard place to help . But on a windswept hilltop along the coast a few miles south of the capital, Mogadishu, a giant, almost ludicrously neat, brand new tented camp for displaced families stands as a monument to what foreigners can achieve here with the right approach. "We've had no security problems yet," said Alper Kucuk, deputy head of the Turkish Red Crescent delegation to Somalia, as we toured the camp surrounded by our own guards and a contingent of soldiers provided by the local administration. "We have 2,100 tents for 12,000 people. Somalis treat us like their family and we are sure that anyone who has the willingness to do something for them will be very welcome," said Mr Kucuk. In the months since the militant Islamist group, al-Shabab, was finally pushed out of the city by African Union soldiers Turkey has emerged as the most visible foreign presence in Mogadishu - if you discount the green armoured cars belonging to the AU force (Amisom), which still growl their way through the busy streets. While most foreign organisations remain cooped up at the heavily guarded Amisom base by the airport, some 200 Turkish nationals are now living and working in the city on a variety of projects, ranging from construction to logistics and aid. "They are our brothers" is a common reaction from Somalis when the Turkish are mentioned. "While some talk, they act," was how a man called Aden put it to me. He said he had recently returned from Canada to help the reconstruction of Somalia. So why aren't other countries, or the United Nations, more active, and is it fair to criticise organisations for taking big security precautions, given the number of aid workers who have been killed in Somalia over the years? "They could do more," said Mr Kucuk simply. Boots-on-the-ground approach The UK's new ambassador to Somalia, Matt Baugh, still based in neighbouring Kenya, acknowledged that "the Turkish have shown what it is possible to do operationally". "They've brought a really strong political force to bear. They're intimately involved - a real force." Turkey's boots-on-the-ground approach is having something of a catalytic effect on the aid community. "The Turkish aid is setting a lot of pace," said Killian Kleinschmidt, the UN's deputy humanitarian co-ordinator in Somalia. He acknowledged that organisations with Islamic backgrounds "can move better than we can". "It's a constant challenge for all of us to adapt [to the changing security situation]," he said. "We are now making dramatic steps in recent days to enhance our mobility. Some organisations are slow. Some are faster." The humanitarian needs here remain considerable, with hundreds of thousands of people dependent on outside aid and living, in Mr Kleinschmidt's words, "just above survival". The improved security environment in Mogadishu is an opportunity to be seized, but the toughest challenge remains to find ways to reach out to those suffering outside the capital, in areas still under the control of al-Shabab. Xigasho

Ifafaaladaada waaku mahadsantahay, waana ku raacsanahay inay Soomaaliya 'federalism' waxba u soo kordhineynin ka ahayn isqabqabsi cusub. Laakiin maxaa ugu tagtay gobollada Sanaag, Togdheer, Sool, Waqooyi Galbeed iyo Awdal?

Che -Guevara;792338 wrote: ^Well, you know what they say power and sex.... The Canadian dude seems unmoved or self-absorbed...loool Inaa saas dhaho aan rabayba. Stephen Harper even sucks in this. His boredom personality is beyond.

Waa wareey, si qatarsan u xssuusataa, runtii. Jidkaas Carwada ku dhaco Jidka Taleex ayaa la dhahaa.

Seinfeld ayaaba soo xasuustay.

Che, ha lagu imtixaamee, haddaa adiga that friend ahaan lahayd, jidadkee soo raaci lahayd adigoo Xamarweyne kasoo dhaqaaqay Taleex soo aaday. Aan aragno xasuustaada Xamar.

Strolling to buy a lollipop in Mogadishu A traffic policeman. Pedestrians. Taxis. Crowded markets and cafes. An absence of constant gunfire. Mogadishu has changed dramatically. It's six months since I was last in the Somali capital - a city then ravaged by famine, swarming with gunmen, and fought over by a lethal assortment of African Union peacekeepers, Islamist militants and clan militias. I won't pretend this is anywhere close to "normal" now. The endless ruins are still packed with displaced families, and behind each busy street thousands of people remain camped out in the most wretched makeshift tents. More are arriving every day - fleeing the fighting and the uncertainty that continues to plague towns outside the capital. There are regular car bombings here too, and suicide attacks by al-Shabab - the militant Islamist group that was finally pushed out of almost the entire city late last year. But the experience of walking through the now bustling city centre - we are still guarded, admittedly, by half a dozen gunmen - has made me appreciate why so many Somalis here, and so many governments abroad, are suddenly talking eagerly of a "window of opportunity" for a failed state that has spent two decades slouching from one catastrophe to the next. Thursday's brief but high-profile international conference on Somalia in London is a reflection of - and belated investment in - that new sense of hope. "Somalis are risk-takers and entrepreneurs. Their lives are restarting," said the city's deputy Mayor, Iman Icar, strolling past the ruins of Mogadishu's cathedral and buying a lollipop from a small stall. A crowd of young children watched us talking, and then switched their attention back to a football game being played in the courtyard of what was once an elegant colonial-era restaurant. "It's sad they are not in school," said the deputy mayor, who went on to call for "billions of dollars - a Marshall Plan," from the outside world to rebuild the city. The sense of calm that has settled haphazardly, over Mogadishu could, of course, vanish very quickly. Somalia has a history of false dawns. The country's feuding elites, ably assisted by a succession of misplaced foreign interventions, have rarely squandered an opportunity to put clan, or region, or profit before reconciliation and stability. But as Somalia's chaos has started to spread - in the form of terrorism and piracy - the outside world has finally shown signs of more concerted interest. Over the next few days I'll be reporting in more detail from this city. I've already spoken to the president of the transitional government and spent some time on the new frontlines outside Mogadishu with Ugandan peacekeepers. I'll also be looking at Turkey's sudden emergence as a key foreign player here - its officials, aid groups and businesses establishing a significant presence in the city and putting many other nations to shame . BBC

Abdirashid Omar, 28, is in hiding after writing a poem criticising the Somali Islamist group al-Shabab, which controls much of southern Somalia and is fighting interim government forces for control of Mogadishu. Somalia has not had a functioning national government for 20 years. Oral poetry, sometimes performed with music, plays an important role in Somali cultural life. Poets are often highly respected and a message recited in verse can become viral and carry great sway. Abdirashid Omar told BBC Focus on Africa why he wrote the poem: When I started doing this poetry initially, the aim was to tackle the social problems, then in December 2009 there was that attack - the Shamo Hotel attack in Mogadishu. I was in a hotel in Eastleigh [a predominantly ethnic Somali inhabited suburb of Kenya's capital, Nairobi] that night watching television and I saw the bomb blast that killed several people who were graduating from medical school. That night I could not sleep because it was so painful. It took me some four hours to make the poem Fatwo (the Decree). The next morning I recorded the 10-minute poem and a week later I recited it - chanting it - to an audience in the border town of Garissa [where many Somalis in Kenya live]. By the next day, it was in circulation in Somali society. It was that hideous, cruel act that provoked me, just made me write this poem. 'They use fear to control' In Eastleigh, I knew that I was living in a society where close to 50% of the people were agreeing with al-Shabab and what they were doing in Somalia, but for us to correct the wrongs of society we must brave the situation. I knew it was dangerous, but I had to say it because someone, somewhere had to talk about this. I realised my message had reached them from the calls I was receiving. Then it was I think on 15 May last year - the day I wanted to launch my poetry album, which included Fatwo that was already posted on the YouTube - I was given 15 days to repent, to "come back to God". If I did not repent within that time then they said: "You shall know that you will no longer live in this world, we'll kill you." I was supposed to withdraw the poem and write another to counter it - with a poem praising them. A person who contradicts his own poem will never be taken [seriously] again in Somali society - something they knew because they are Somalis. The police advised me to move out of Eastleigh for my safety because I refused to retract the poem. As a poet I will talk about the social ills. If there are people who are pushing this society towards a dangerous zone - like al-Shabab are doing - I will be writing poems about them. When you look at al-Shabab, they are people who are between the ages of 12 to 20. What makes them tick is the silence of the society - we let them use fear to control the society. Anger gives me the kind of drive I have, because this society, at the end of the day, has to solve its own problems. The international community will not solve its problem. We have to have voices among the people who will defy the kind of threats and dangers that are there, who will say: "No it's enough." I fear no-one if I feel I can do good through the power of my pen. BBC

Waxeeba ismoodaa inay wax qarisay markee istaabtaabaneyso. Isbaalo waaku yaalaan laakiin gantaalo maya. Teeda kale xariifka marka la qabtay in uu jeesto ma ahayn, in uu dhanka uu fiirinaaye sii fiiriyo ahayd, yacni iska dhigo qof qudbada dhageysanaayo kana jeesan dhankeeda. Asagaaba isqarxiye kor iyo meelo kale fiirinaayo markii la arkay.

Ku qabso ku qadi meyside (If you claim it, you will gain from it) I would like to thank everyone who read the article I wrote on January 29 (Congratulations, You Won!!!). Special thanks to those who have commented on forums. It has given me a chance to really understand the perspectives of my brothers and sisters. No doubt, I learned a valuable lesson by reading all of your comments. My background is that I left Somalia when I was a toddler. I was fortunate enough to have been raised by parents that do not have a clannish mentality and taught me that this kind of thinking was one of the main problems that led to our country’s demise. It is important to note that my intention of this article was to raise the awareness and be vigilant about the merciless companies who come to Somalia only to exploit our resources, regardless of the consequences. It is well known that the companies who were dumping toxic waste materials along the Somali seashore had permission from Somali leaders. We were all tacit when these leaders were paid to accept the poison. Also, we were silent when Somali leaders gave permission to foreign trawlers to over-fish our seas, leading to a great loss of our supplies of fish, lobster, and marine life. Therefore, we should not be tacit any further, but speak loud and clear. Though I am not claiming to be an expert in this field, I have a Business Administration degree and I specialized in marketing. Therefore, I have great knowledge on how to sell a product and the appropriate questions to ask about any business venture. My research has helped to give me insight on this specific oil venture, and its legitimacy. My points had nothing to do with whether Somalia has oil deposits or not, and I did not doubt that oil is there in Puntland. My concern was the ingenuity of Range Resources and the publicity surrounding the Dharoor site. Furthermore, my thoughts on the Puntland oil would have been exactly the same if oil was discovered in Mogadishu or Somaliland. In my previous article, I raised awareness and asked valid questions about this company's intentions. Maybe some of you know of the companies selling pieces of the moon to the public. One example is when Dennis Hope, who established a Lunar Embassy in the 1980’s, claimed the moon as his property. He has since sold many pieces of lunar land to people everywhere. Therefore, it is very appropriate to question the sincerity of the company and the viability of real-estate on moon, even though it is visible to all of us.. When I pointed out some basic requirements for foreign investment like having a recognized government and financial institutions, some of the critics compared Puntland to the situation that happened to the Kurds in Iraq and the Libyan rebels. We are comparing apples to oranges, it was a politically motivated to cripple Saddam and Gaddafi’s economy. Also, the investment and the infrastructure for these regions existed long before these groups divorced the rulers of Iraq and Libya. Meanwhile, we are in the very beginning stages, with much information to consider before jumping blindly into the arms of Range Resources. One of the great things about us Somalis is that we have a saying for practically every subject matter and I found out that in this case we say: Ku-qabso ku qadi meyside (If you claim it, you will gain from it). To my understanding, Range Resources have been itching to be involved with Puntland over the years, so that they can claim their stake, and be ready for when the real companies come to the table. That means Range Resources can claim any dollar figures they want (a million to a billion) and that will be added to the cost of our future oil business. The Puntland regional government failed to disclose information about the investments and the deal, so why shouldn’t we question their motives. Now, whether you want to believe it or not, if we don’t critically think about our options and just see dollar signs, it’s inevitable that greed and power will destroy what’s left our country. In conclusion, let us assume that my assumptions were wrong. Now my questions are: Who will invest in our country at this state? What is the amount of the investment and where is it coming from? What kind of infrastructure is planned for Dharoor (refinery, pipes to the seaports, or any other method) What are the environmental programs that will ensure the safety of human and wild life? What are the agreements and allocations to this project? What is the timeline for these projects: 10 years, 50 years or 100+ years. Who will hold this company accountable? Until someone can answer my questions, I will assume that Range Resources is only there for Ku-qabso ku qadi meyside. Xigasho

Caadi loo qabtay xariifka. Laakiin wax la fiiriyaba meesha kuma yaalaan.

Che -Guevara;792008 wrote: "''Arrey xaw-leeyahay odaygaan?'' " ''Duqa is deji nooh'' Your luck of knowledge of Southern dialects and mannerism is apparent here.

Ninkaan Jimcaale la leeyahay soo ma'aha kii shirkadii Bakaraad dartiisa loo xiray? Hadduu isla kii yahay, wuxuu taabtaba wey dhacaan. Qaran was my preferred xawaalad.

He is a has been ignorant sub-warlord. Qof dhag jalaq u dhigaayo warkiisa iska yar. One undeniable fact by the rise of Maxkamadaha and Barbaarta did good: Taming and disarming permanently the wild dagaaloogiyaashii xumaa ee warlords. Yaa maqlo warkooda? Yaa maqlo isbaaro xaafadaas hebel u taala, xaafadaas hebel xukumo. Dekedii iyo garoonkii ay isku xasdi jireena caadi u shaqeysaa without any of them managing. Ooh, how lovely to see how the mightly hath fallen low in a few short years.

Learning your native language is tricky, say adult offspring of immigrants Anne-Marie Vettorel speaks Spanish — up to a point. She has trouble with Colombian slang, she’s prone to grammatical errors and sometimes she can’t find the right words for everyday objects. For example, the Spanish name for “shovel.” (Hint: it starts with “p” and rhymes with “mala.”) But Vettorel does speak Spanish — just not as a first language. That, for her, is a problem, especially considering both her parents are from Argentina and she desperately wants to sound like them. “I would love to learn Spanish by living in a Spanish-speaking country,” she says. “It’s in my plans to live somewhere where I can soak it all in. Argentina would be my first choice.” Now 20 and a journalism student at Ryerson University, the Vancouver-born Vettorel is a Canadian first but an Argentine at heart, except for a tricky little verbal conundrum called español. She speaks it — up to a point — but not well enough for her to feel as authentically Argentine as she does Canadian. “I just have this fantasy connection,” she says. “Wild horses on the Pampas, the vineyards of Mendoza. . . “The only person censoring myself as an Argentine-Canadian is me.” Behold the sometimes tongue-tied world of the language-deprived. That, at least, is how they see themselves — the offspring of immigrants who now must struggle to hold their own in the language of their parents, one that should have been theirs as a birthright. To make things up, more often than not, they have to go back to school and start all over again, practically from scratch. “We notice it a lot,” says Maria Figueredo at the department of languages, literature and linguistics at York University. “They still maintain a link with their background. It’s a matter of maintaining a sense of identity.” Or of finding one. Vettorel is a child of immigrants to Canada. Like others, she failed to learn her parents’ language when young, only to repent that omission later. But it’s one thing to absorb a language while an infant — something that seems to require no effort — and quite another to perform the same feat as a young adult. Vettorel tries her best, battling to reclaim a cultural legacy that might have been hers free, if only she’d stuck with it as a child. Like many others, however, she took the path of least resistance, adopting the lingua franca of her Canadian friends — and her well-meaning parents went right along. By the time she reached Grade 2 or 3, Vettorel says, “we had completely switched to English in the home.” Hers is an oft-told tale — a chronicle of betrayal, remorse and at least partial vindication that is shared, probably, by millions. Take Anuschka Buob, who grew up on a horse farm north of Toronto, the eldest child of a Canadian mother and a Swiss German father. But Buob did not learn Swiss German as a child. “To be honest, at that young age, when you’re still a sponge, it didn’t occur to me.” It does now. At age 31, Buob is working for a multinational firm, based — you guessed it — in Zurich. “I always wanted to travel,” she says on the phone from Switzerland. “I have a Swiss passport. I felt this was an opportunity. But the language was a key point for me.” True, Buob spent several years boning up on her German while in high school in southern Ontario, but that was high German, the language they speak in Berlin or Bonn. Swiss German is another sort of wurst, altogether. “It’s quite difficult, even for Germans,” says Buob, who has lived in Switzerland for nearly five years. “From a comprehension point of view, I can get by. But speaking is painful.” The same prickly logic applies to Korean. Just ask Aeyoung Cho, who is embarrassed to admit she cannot speak the language of her forbearers. “I think it’s a shame,” says the 30-year-old banker. “I think I’ve shamed my heritage and my nationality.” Just one year old when her family moved to Canada, Cho did what countless other young newcomers do. Almost as soon as she started school, she turned her back on her mother tongue. “I was probably one of two Asian kids in my whole school,” she says. “I just wasn’t interested in it.” She is deeply interested now, but it’s a long, hard slog. “I definitely would like to learn Korean,” she says. “I’m looking to do it in the future.” According to Figueredo at York, the urge to recover an abandoned mother tongue resonates more powerfully in some immigrant communities than others. Roughly half of those studying Spanish at York, she says, fall into this category — kids of immigrants, trying to recoup a lost language, one they regard as being properly their own. Meanwhile, those enrolled in German studies just want to study German. The difference seems to be that Spanish-speaking immigrants mostly belong to a more recent demographic wave and may not yet be as deeply integrated into the larger society as some other groups. Still, every story is unique. Consider Sarah Lopes, who was born in Toronto to Portuguese immigrants. At first, she followed a well-trodden path, opting to speak English-only after she started school. At age 16, she reversed engines and salvaged her Portuguese. It took four years of hard work and discipline, but she’s fluent in her mother tongue. Now 23, Lopes is studying Portuguese and Spanish literature at York and edits Entre Voc/zes, a magazine published in both languages. “I was motivated to learn it,” she says of Portuguese. “I forced myself.” But it wasn’t easy. When it comes to language, almost nothing is. Just ask Mamta Mishra, executive director of a non-governmental organization called World Literacy Canada. Her family exchanged India for Pickering when she was just seven years old, but Mishra never stopped speaking Hindi. She continues to speak it now. Flawlessly. Not only that, her 15-year-old son, Akash, who plays defence on his local hockey team and is a further generation removed from India, speaks perfect Hindi, too. How is this possible? Simple. You could call it language dictatorship. “My father was a bit of a tyrant,” says Mishra. “We were forbidden to speak English at home.” When she became a parent herself, Mishra adopted a similar approach. Even when her son began to rebel — predictably, around the time he started school — she stood firm. “I would only speak in Hindi. With me, he just knew — I was the Hindi speaker. It was really, really tough.” But it worked. Of course, it might not work for everyone. The gentler option is to do as Anuschka Buob did. As soon as she could, she hightailed it for Switzerland, partly for adventure but also for the language — and things seem to be going fine. Up to a point. “Most of my friends speak German or Swiss German,” she says, meaning to each other. “With me, they speak English.” Toronto Star

Amiin Caamir mee dhaheen.

Libaax-Sankataabte;791630 wrote: Awooweyaal, most of you are adults. Would you kindly debate one another without calling each other names. This is becoming a fruitless excercise for everyone involved. Please respect the rules of the website and avoid the personal insults. If you don't have the skills to debate others in a civil manner, then don't post anything at all. You are no use to SOL. We don't have the time or resources to edit all the silly outbursts. Cayda hala joojiyo dhallinyaro. Cayi horaa loo yiri cid kaama celiso. Nacnacle laga adkaaday uun bay kaa dhigi cayduye, hala xishoodo.

Cambuulo, adigana saas maa aaminsantahay. Angia Xamar xundunteyda ku duugan, but now I can't claim xuduntaas miyaa. Isbitaal Banaadir ku duugantahay ee mala ii soo faagaa banaanka maala ii soo dhigi doonaa if I don't belong qolooyinkaa meesha kusoo dhajisay? Xamareey xaal qaado.

Maamul qabiileed maamul gobol ma noqdo. Qabiil madaxweyne sameystay madaxweyne ma'aha, waa kaaba qabiil. Toban iyo sideeda gobol ayaa wax lagu qeybsanaa, ninkii diida asagaa riyoonaayo.