Caawa Brazil iyo Ukraine diyaar ayaan u aheyn. Bagaad i xasuusisey. Volleyball tournamnet ayaan practice u sameeynaa after work, markaa maanta waan u goyn si ayna ciyaarta ii dhaafin. There is nothing that compels me to use anyone's name. Afterall, I didn't use names. I used scripts. Laakin even that is too much. It is not about bilcaamo and women. It is about age. Lessons learnt. Ka seexo arimahaas. SA ma tagin baryahan. Meel ka fiican baa la helay oo Nairobi la yidhaa. Halkaasaan u sheeko doontaa fasaxa. Laakin I am planning to come sometime soon. Kii xumaayee Mzansi weeye ka kugu yidhi ninkii wuu waasho gabdhaha SOL buu caayaa. Haduu iga naxayo muu PM isoo diro.

We are not intersted if someone have gone to hospital or is sick. Too many Somal's are dying everyday. Let us discuss real issues Dear Malika. Ururka haweenka Soomaliyeed yuu Prime Minister u wataa?

Xinny, Oodweyne and Ayoub are already mounting a war of attrition on the sides. The regrettable thing is they are using stone-throwing children and Maati to fight back. I challenge them to be men enough and come out instead of mobilising fillies, whom if I kill or they kill me will make me the loser either way. Mahadoow (Bob, A comparative analysis of love in our old days with contemporary on-line and iphone love is not the mother of all monkey businesses. Granted, there was a mistake in using scripts in SOL as characters. But it should not have produced the reaction I saw. Whoever sent you the e-mail, a he or a she, is the one who is losing his/her marble. Calm down and don't be like the proverbial he-camel which is pushed into life-threatening adventures because another more powerful Awr is pursuing it. The corollary to that tale is of course nin naagi wado and somthing to that effect. Mise waxaad ku qarinaysaa dayaca aad adiga iyo Nuune (oo Moderator dhan ah ) aad igu daawanayseen kolkii la i rifayey? tixdan baa idin qabata. Muska waxaan u galay, Mahad baan laga majiireeyne Moderator'kii Nuune baan lahaa, waad ku meelmariye Waakay maryihii iga dhigeen, duul maqiiqaniye Allahayow miciinlaawayaal, sideen ugu muraad seegay!

Waagii hore ceebta ugu badan ee dhulkeena nin ku qabsan jirtay wuxuu ahaa "ninkii gabadh baa qabsatay". Hadda ninkii gabadhbaa internet'ka ku qabsatay weeye. Waa calaamo inteeda la'eg.

The secessionists abhor him simply because he was very instrumental in neutralizing their silly ambitions for political recognition when he first created Puntland and singlehandedly showed the whole world that the relative stability that Marfashland used to boast about was nothing unique to them alone This is true. I don't hate Yey with the passion I used to hate him anymore. Wadaadada ayuu necbaa, wadaadaduna wax la naco way yihiin ilaa kuwa Isli Nairobi hada fatwada ka soo saaara. Wuu naga aragti dheeraa. Laakin, qaladaad waa weyn oo siyaasadeed wuu sameeyay, wuxuuna qayb la xaadle ka qaatay burburkii iyo dagaalkii Sokeeyee ee Somalia. Wayse dhici kartaa in vision xun uuna la rabin Soomalia laakin wadada loo marayaa ka xumaatay. Si buu wadani u yahay xitaa isagoo ah ka Itoobiya sooo hogaamiyey.

Bi'iwaa Cabdinuuroow, Cosobsaan islahaaaye, Maxaa ceeb iga raacday?

games maxaa kugu qabtay adoo sheeko heli kara!!My sympathies. The more expletives you use the more you harm yourself.

there is no embarassment. But I see your point. In fact the embarrassment is the pretense there is one. I am managing her anger so far. But seriously it is uncalled for. Unless I hit tenous chords in her that I don't know by accident.

waryaa tan yari ileen caadi bay u duqaysay engine'ka. She is threatening to tell people what I supposedly confinded in her. Who will be the loser in that? Does she know it? She is truely immature!

What is the problem if you post a picture of mine you got when I thought you are in my age and wanted to try my luck? I mean it is not that I am that ugly? Bring it on young one. I may not have the hair of Bengali's but they have nothing on me. You put too much importance on non-issues. But my only shame is in the age difference and the discussion we have here. So far, I have called you only two names: Young one and male-hater. Both are compliments by the way. Not that I want to stop you from sharing my 'secrets'. In fact, I believe they will show a different side of me. Speaking of PMs, why don't you post the last three you claim you have in your inbox and you haven't read yet? I mean I only know of one. And it is like why didn't you greeted me these weeks as an adeer? I would have called you something else for all these made-up things but then you will have a concrete evidence for bad name-calling I did to you, oo deedna xaal baa iqaban.

Tu yaroo shimbir qabtaan afka la galay. waa la ii yaabaa. Allow sahal amuuraha. Ibti- Only LST can force me to quit SOL. Not even if you bring the whole Burco stone-throwers with you can you bring about my demise. If you continue to put on a show and issue threats, you will need a qardhaas soon to calm you down. I mean I know how to tame difficult kids.

why does Sheh protect me? In truth, I should have known what armed youth could do. I mean I have seen Alshabab. But please let Ibti unleash her atomic bombs. Please. I mean it is not like she will say A&T asked me for something! I mean even that if she says will only make me odoyaasha gaboobay ee gabdhaha yaryar guursada. It is embarassing but it won't kill me. Let the young lunatic spill the beans or she will take herself too serious.

Bisinka. Waaxay oohintu? Ok you win. but please tell us all next week. I await the damning PMs.

I don't know Nina, but I know CL won't gamble on this one. Like Ibti, she doesn't suffer from the wart of growth - something I will explain in detail in due course once the deadline for the ultimatum passes.

This letter was read in the Agriculture programme of Radio Hargeisa on October 4, 2010. The presenter announced that although the programme’s focus is on crop and livestock issues, it has been broadcasting entertaining topics and comedy in order to attract bigger audience. Here is a transcript of the programme. Sidii aad nooga barateen , waxaa saacadan oo kale aan soo dayn jiray barnaamijkii beeraha. Waxaanse maanta idiin soo gudbinaynaa warqad jacayl ah oo aanu ka helnay mid ka mid ah dhagaystayaasha barnaamijka, ahna muwaadin u dhashay wadanka Somaliland oo qiiro wadaniyadeed oo ku dayasho mudan ka muuqato. It is because we thought the issues raised in this love letter are educational and could bolster Somaliland’s recognition pursuit that we decided to air it. Waa tan warqadii. " I am a citizen of Somaliland. I serve my country with dedication, both at home and when I travel abroad. Because of some people’s wrong perception of the Somaliland project, they often call me ‘secessionist, tribalist, vindictive, and jewish-lover.’ I know most of this confusion is created because they do not understand the circumstances that led to the current situation and the decision-making process at Burco conference. I just said some people, but the truth is almost all Somalis including the ones who are geographically closer to us and are supposedly within our state think I am narrow-minded. That is why they burn the sacred flag with the name of Allah in Borame for the flimsiest of reasons. I am now of the opinion all those who are not from us but greet me warmly actually want to pilfer something from us by singing the independence song we so love. Gacaliso, Like any lover, when I look at your eyes, I see all that I want to see in Somaliland. Kulmiye, UDUB, UCID and all other parties holding hands for the transformation of this great nation. I see all the heroes who allowed me to live long enough to see you. It is the bitter struggle of the Koodbuur’s, the Mooge’s, and many more mujahid’s who allowed us to live freely in our land. With the gratifying knowledge the gob prevailed over the gun and the fa.q.a.sh. I see transparency, democracy, electoral reform, division of power, nationalism , accountability and all facets of statehood and values that good citizens display. The precision of your teeth, with all ordered evenly like an arithmetic equation, is a clear manifestation of the equality, fairness, culture of tolerance and rule of law that has made Somaliland what it is today. When some see your long and dark hair, it may remind them the potential we have to produce feathery maize around Arabsiyo, if we could diversify our livestock and trade–centered economic policy. Or it may force them to stop and wonder where they have seen you before, if they are old enough to know about the green dareemo that was so ubiquitous in our land before we destroyed our trees for charcoal production and other destructive activities. Thinking about your breasts brings tears to my eyes as I see the parallel between them and the brave Somaliland army men and women that stand with breathtaking perpendicularity and strive day and night to quell the terrorist maneuvers of the SSC zealots and the sinister trespassing of the ONLF. And I shiver the same way these enemies shake when they came face to face with this might. Inaadeertey macaan, Although the slimness of your waist-line is like a clean Kulmiye politician who has never been subjected to any inquiries of corruption, when I look at your back side, it is easy to relate it to the boom in our economy and the level of development our country has achieved so far. I sometimes wish we hang the national flag and all national treasures like the pictures of founding fathers like Mohamed Haji Ibrahim Igal on your head, so that all can see from afar. You are that tall. My love, it is your inside beauty and mind that attracted me to you more than your bodily endowment. I have seen you in rallies and demonstrations in many of our infinite election campaigns and events, and I realized they have made you mature and wise. If you wouldn’t call it an exaggeration, I can equate your knowledge to that of a graduate of Nuradin College in Hargeisa. I know, my love. This level of qualification and intellectual capacity doesn’t come in one sunrise. Just like recognition can’t come in a fortnight. And it can't just be a gift from the creator. On the contrary, it is the fruits of the hard work of your Mujahid parents who not only raised you with milk and butter but with strong discipline in a house where it was easy to see what good governance looks like. My Dear, Some might try to espouse the politics of hate and covetousness in order to create doubt in your heart, by peddling falsehoods about me. They may attempt to incite violence of the loved on the lover. It is true I will indict these kinds of liars and pirates on charges of subversion and undermining Qaranimadda Somaliland. Mind you. This is not a petty crime. I am a cadre of the Somaliland cause. How can you not see this kind of incitement against me as one against the country? It is like inciting it against the country and even Silaanyo. You need to realize this! If the inciters are from SSC and from within, they can get death sentence for treason. If they are from former Somalia and the bitter Puntland, Somaliland can go up to Garowe to defend its interests. Macaan, Love is like a unification based on mutual consent and a consultative forum where stakeholders discuss without fear and suppression. It is not a forced reunion like some dreamers of the defunct Somaliweyn concept would like to see. It is not what General Qalib and Buba think they have by sitting with Qanyare and Maslax Siyaad. And it doesn’t matter if some refuse to recognize our love and marriage. Recognition is from within. It is when you and me recognize that we have a love that others will be compelled to recognize us, albeit begrudgingly. It is also encouraging to know we have people like Khadra-jurro who I call Ghana, ready to party at our day of deliverance. It is good to know Aaliya and those we thought are our long-time neighbors warm to Sharif and non-existent entities while shunning us. Gacaliso, The mere thought of you and me under one roof and in xalaal marriage creates all kinds of delectable illusions in my head. May the number of children we will have surpass the livestock at Berbera port for export! May the first son, the Curad, drink from the wisdom our leader Faysal Cali Waraabe drunk from at Salaxleey as a young shepard. May Sheekh Adan Siiro announce our marriage at his mosque, as the next talking item after he deals with the sanctity of multi-party democracy and madaxbanaanida golaha guurida. Aamin! Aamin! Lastly, we don't need to spend more time. I want to send prominent elders with the reputation of our parliament to your family. I am even thinking of involving the eminent Haji Abdi-Waraabe. Gacaliyahaa Keyse Abdullahi Ducaale, Keyse-lander "

I give Young Ibtisam an ultimatum. Surrender in the coming 24 hours. You can do it here on this thread, or you can do it privately by sending me a PM and asking me to leave you alone. But if you don't and pretend you are up for a fight, I will go up one extra step and into the warfare that includes the mechanised divisions. It will be a graphic extermination. I may go the way of digging up PM's and it is not going to help anyone. Surrender, please. It doesn't give me any pleasure to be accused of slaughtering kids and women. Please! You have dashed to the battle-field armed with the reckless audacity of a juvenile. Your bravado is as barmy as Tuujiye's premature celebrations in the PM's he is sending me because Cara is about to be finsihed. Clearly, he underestimates the bio-chemist witch. The older ones are mum and want the balaayo to pass with a minimum damage. You could do the same. Let the real target come to the fore. You are at the pawns of a skilful and cruel master, the scientist, who have no compunctions in throwing honest children into blazing veld fires. Don't be the amplifier of Cara. Let her post my PM's. I warn you again Ibtisam. This is not a bluff. If you do not surrender or aplogise, I swear by Sachin Tandukar and my Asian Seedi's, you will not be in SOL for long. Of course, that may be a blessing and you will concentrate on your fashion designs afterwards. But I will be ferocius and mean. Forewarned is forearmed!

Ibtisam could be patting herself at the back for mounting a massive fightback with damning revealations. But I see all of it as an aborted fart. Sorry for the bad language. Here is the meat in her rebuke: - Colonel Sabarey or Abtigiis as she is wont to call him roams the internet in search of qurba-joog women and for the purpose of flirting. A charge I accept with the rider that I am a bit indiscriminate in my targeting. I mean I don't mind flirting with women in the neighbouring Democratic Republic of Congo, frankly, when it comes to internet love. It is a hobby, and one which can be classified as a mild foible in this crazy world we live in today. - A number of PM's are paraded. The content is not as damning as Ibti thinks. I am asking for love, and it is perfectly normal. On one occassion, I am saying I am a rich man. I thought that is what women like and have every right to claim it to win my prize. Whether I actually am rich or not is beside the issue. Not to mention some content of the PM's could be a fiction. - I loved Cara. It is an established adage that it is not news when a dog bites a man. It is news when a man bites a dog. My love confessions to Cara were public. Her heartless disregard was public too. Love and hate are reciprocal emotions, Angela Vicario thinks in the Chronicles of Death foretold by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. So, it is only logical I detest Cara with the same intensity I loved her once. Young Ibti thinks it is a shame to lash out at someone who abandoned you. - She thinks I am compensating for all the things I can't say to women in real life. A charge I accept again. But where is the sin? It is not like I am strangling women in dark valleys. And speaking of not being able to say those things to women, none of my previous four wives said I am shy. So, it is a conjecture on young Ibti's side. Now, let us put that beside my charges against her. I say she is a dangerous man-hater and the Somali ones for that matter. That is why we have to pass regards to Bengalis when sending her a happy Eid messages. I am also saying she is a miser. Regarding the scientist, she is a threat. A dangerous one. A binary. And all things mysterious. But she is clever. And the evidence is passing my PM's to her to Ibtisam and sending her on sucide mission. I don't think she will attend the funeral of the young one when she is murdered by grey-haired love sick!

war hawenku nugulaa. They must have thought they are dealing with a lunatic. Anyway, LST I suggest you form a taskforce reerka isku hagaaajiyaa. Xaasaskii baa ii heshiiyey and they are handful. Ibti, you cannot speak for Cara. It shows something when she uses you to fight her wars.

Buuxo, way kuu hadashay Ibti soow ma aha. Heh. Maku ciil baxday. Actually it may be a good idea to add Buuxo in place of Malika, whom everybody wants to defend. Isjir buuxooy!!

Ibtisam. The dagger is now out, I hope you have the skin to take what is coming. Seriously, waad iska kay celisay.Although the story here was a genuine comparison of old love with contemporary one, and the use of internet personas was not intended to offend anyone. Anyway, the names could have been KoolKat, C&H, Garowegal etc. But I thought I have a bariido-level relationship with you three, that I felt I can take your names without angering you. The reaction here is a bit more than what I expected. Which tells me, there is a problem. Sida kale, your discription of A&T is accurate. And I don't hate myself for that. It is ok to flirt in my books. So whatelse yaad soo wada? I will continue bombarding you and the scientist in the comng weeks. I will decide what to do with Malika after I see her reaction on this thread. If she displays her usual peace-making role, fine. If not, I will include her as the third target.

It is painful but let us imagine you fall in love with Ibtisam. Or Cara like I once did. Or Malika. You go to an extreme act of warmth and use the ten Dollars in your pocket to place an overseas phone call to one of them. They may find it insulting and it is highly improbable anyway - for they think it is a supreme affront to suggest a man with such abject penury will aspire for their limbs laden with Daruuro’s latest gold and silver adornment, but let us say they have long-standing relationship with the man. Cara’s reaction would be to reject the call and scrawl down a hasty text message “Hi. Can’t take your call now. In a meeting. Will call you back.” There is no acknowledgement of the man’s effort; no respect or reference to him as Mohamud. It can get get even more hysterical with Ibtisam. “ What? You are still making calls. It is expensive, use Skype or send me an e-mail later. Someone is bothering me here right now.” There is no precaution the man could take the ‘someone’ she talks about as his nemesis. She doesn’t have to tell him, he knows it is expensive. It just didn’t occur to feeble Ibtisam he doesn’t value her in pecuniary terms. There is neither care nor understanding of the devotion and tenderness on the other side. Even the rather sober Malika would only manage a callous ‘ Is all well ? I am fine. Can we talk later ” message. Yes, in all this, you may ask what and where is the sin? You will say surely that is what professionalism and modern day corporate values espouse. You don’t expect Cara to run out of her laboratory just to requite the love of a man. It is a sacrilege for her to abandon her unthinking robots and skeletons for a mere mortal with ephemeral passion. Ibtisam can’t fathom stopping browsing the web for research ideas and take a call, which doesn’t tell her to come for a job interview. It is not urgent. It is a matter of discipline for Malika. You just can’t give a call in the middle of the day and expect her to abandon her duties to talk to you. It doesn’t matter if the man was lucky when he called and she was actually stretching outside for more energy. He should behave like a learned man, her mind tells her. There is another dimension to this. Suppose he calls when they are free and relaxing! And suppose they indeed love him and express it to him in the best way they think they can do. They want to smile; it is a click and a smiley pops up on your screen or below an e-mail message. You will never know if that was intended for you or if the wrong click was made accidentally. They can even go as far as saying ‘I love you’ and ‘I miss you’ and tell it to you face to face. Didn’t those things become a cliché nowadays? Where is the emotion in it and how can I measure the extent of the love for me, for surely there is a love ladder and everyone wishes to know he is sitting on the top. Things ought not to be like this. Contrast this to Ruqiya, my first love. I would have told you about her but you will say it was a youthful infatuation and that the comparison lacks perspective for I am not comparing like with likes. “Kids in London, Melbourne and Toronto do it too. What else are you telling us?” you will say. Ibtisam is a kid, but she exhibits the ruthless cynicism of an old Barni with Arawello mindset. She is not a marauding misandrist just yet but she is an androphobe for sure. But they can always come back and say she is an anomaly. So, let us not go there for now. That is where Dulmar, may Allah make the grave as spacious as Windsor palace for her, must be mentioned. Dulmar was as old as Cara when I loved her. I can never forget that morning at the end of 1977 when I travelled to a far land. The journey started from my home village where I have to bid farewell to my parents and seek their blessing. It was clear to all that they will not see me soon, maybe never again. It was about 5:30 and I can remember it now because I can’t forget the morning Azan of Axmed Dheere. The beauty of small villages is you know everyone and they are often related to you in some way. I heard he died too now. On top of the small car and waiting for it to start the engine anytime, I had the uneasy presentiment of something happening. Inexplicably, I started to look around for something with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. The driver was still by the roadside; counting the money he collected form passengers and sipping tea in preparation for the arduous trip ahead. Then, I saw it. It was the unmistakable palm of Dulmar sticking out from deep within the entrails of the shrubs and thorny trees by the roadside. Her palms alone, no body. My heart sunk only to shake with unfathomable rhythm seconds later. The fear of being detected. That is what drove her under the thorns. I knew. If Cara fears laboratory rules, Dulmar had been confronted with bigger social manacles. Her families gave her to a man of name (nin magac leh), and she cannot flirt with others. She also knows the consequences of transparency in love matters and the ignominy it will bring for her family and herself. But she dared to wave her hand in valediction. It was only her palms that I saw. No text message, no smileys, no flowers, and no complimentary card. Yet, that brief gesture and the love it transmits eclipses all of Cara’s, Malika’s and Ibtisam’s romantic declarations put together; again assuming they are humane enough to make such declarations in the first place. Where Dulmar would brave the dishonor of being exposed and would go to men she didn’t know to give a love missive to be hand-delivered to me, Ibtisam may be content with effortlessly typing it from a keyboard, sipping flavoured milkshakes. The things we knew in love relationships – sacrifices, risks, spontaneity and selfless devotion are killed by the demands of modernity and the advent of technology. No more queuing for a VHF radio to pass coded greetings to your lover on the other end while strangers and men and women you fear are gazing at you. I can’t tell if Cara sent me a ‘how are you’ message from her iphone because she meant it, or because she found a time and could think of nothing else to do. A release from boredom! Where is the effort? How can I measure her love? It is not like she has asked Nuune if he knows where I am and all she wants is to check on my welfare. Is it? It is this missing fire that is rendering carnal indulgencies a chore, not a pleasure, and is killing marriages.

I am aware of my weaknesses. When I up my English at least to Ngonge's level if not Prometheus, than it will be realistic to aim for such things. I am no short of ideas, but the English has to get better to do what you think I can do. Thanks for the accolades though. But put your prayers behind me. You C&H is a bintu saalixan, samadaa furane ducee.

This is not how it was supposed to happen. Dadkan aan ducada laga aqbalayn yaa yidhaa iga daaya ducadiina. Of all people, Prometheus is the last person I want to do any prayers on my behalf. For I am certain his mere involvement will neutralise what the pios Sharif Mahdi is doing. I didn't say I hate Prometheus's ideas and analysis, but I think it is the wrong time for him to come and support me, if he has any genuine good-will towards me. looooooool@rocking chair!

Cara, adigu ilaahay ha daad taqaan ha ii duceeyn. Lama aqbalayo taadee ha iga shaashayn. Malika, salaams sis. waa la kala loomay and I truely missed you when I was away from SOL on the instructions of the Sharif.

Originally posted by xiinfaniin: Aw Tusbaxle, I must admit the stats I heard from that briefing were much better than my originally assumed base line. In my mind, ****** was a land of misery and agony whose people are under harsh political oppression and military brutality where access to education, clean water, and health services (let alone research institutions and higher ed) was no wise possible. When you utter words such as tyranny and refer to the lack of individual rights that exists in the region, you are appealing to my instincts. I tend to readily agree with such powerful arguments albeit emotionally. And I have asked very tough questions like the ONLF and its opposition to the said agreement. And my friends admit the fact that ONLF remains the biggest obstacle. It represents, they say, real challenge to whatever progress and break this agreement was designed to produce. I gather you are not denying the existence of the stats I cited. You are just pointing out the fact that majority of ******s are living under tyranny and as a result are suffering. I can do nothing about your misconceptions. Jigjiga is a better place than Hargeisa and Garowe. And in terms of human capital development, way way superior. That is another story. Don't get high on stats on development. We can discuss those in some perspective some other time. But why is the stats about the number of dead, raped and jailed not concerning you that much? Is it because you think it is a fabrication? And why have you concluded ONLF is the problem? There is a political problem in the region. The history is well known. ONLF and TPLF disagreed on how to run the region in 1994. A war broke out. It has to be resolved and that calls for readiness for serious discussions on both sides. That seriousness is not coming from Meles. And until such time he comes to his senses, the ONLF has no option but to hold onto the guns. By the way, are you recommending what Sh.Ibrahim and Macow did? And you think such moves will bring peace? I tell you you don't have any understanding of how the mentality of Tigre and Axmaaro work. So, don't be the jack of all trades. Sit back and learn. Kolba talo yar oo diciif ah oo wax ay ku saleesayntahay la gareeney meesha in lala yimaad ma aha. There is a plan on our side and we stick to it. It is because of ONLF that Somali's get an equal share (at least on paper) in Ministerial allocation with Tigres. More and more rights will come if we remain patient and principled. And we don't really ming false peace deals orchastrated by Iley and Meles. I personally think Iley is doing good job, in using those meaningless rituals as a ruse to free some prisoners. We want to second peace-makers in some batches on a periodic basis. But that the Tigre's aren't giving them anything should tell you something. They know where real peace can come from and who can deliver it. Meles is requesting to meet Admiral Osman in person. That is all the detial I can give you. But unless a credible political deal is offered, which will address short-term concerns and long-term aspirations as well, no one will shake Meles's hand. We prefer the Tamil way, to be defeated militarily and let the dream live for another day, than take undiginified peace deals. Taa ku seexo!