VISCOSITY OF HIS ROOTS (A short story)

[Abtigiis]

VISCOSITY OF HIS ROOTS

 

(A short Story)

 

“Save something for you fiancée. You told me you are marrying next month” Kistet, the Ethiopian girl told him, after disposing the pile of seven condoms they used in the course of the passionate night. She put dark shades on his eyes as he leaned back on the pillow made of ostrich feathers, and started dipping drops of cold strawberry yoghurt into his gaping mouth.

 

Usually, he doesn’t mind her jokes. As a riposte, for instance, he would have relayed to her the exchanges between Roble and Ibtilo some years back.

 

Ibtilo, concerned by the licentious behaviour of Roble, asked, “Why do you waste your spawn everywhere. Instead of wasting on bed sheets and blankets of dark rooms, why can’t you conserve it, and get an Engineer or a Doctor boy or girl.”

 

Roble: “You are right. I fully understand what you are implying. Let me assure you that that is exactly my intention. But, you must know I am getting rid of the navvies (labourers) for now.”

 

But, the words of his mother on the telephone from the distant home village struck his head. His mind lost its peace.

 

“Son, you are Muslim. You are grown up now. Yes, your first marriage might not have worked. But that doesn’t mean your next won’t. May God’s wrath descend onto you if you commit any sin!”

 

He values what his old-fashioned but thoughtful mother says. The bad joke of Kistet tore apart the little self-worth he felt. He yielded to the temptations of the hot moments with the nubile Kistet.

 

When he first met her at the front desk of the hotel reception, he thought she actually looked like a Somali. She was short, slim, and chocolate-colour. She thought he is one of the home boys. But looking at his identity card, she questioned her earlier judgement.

 

“Your name is Mohamed. Are you an Oromo?” she said.

 

“No. I am not. I am a Somali.”

 

Six months later, they were good friends. She knew all about him and his family. He knew she had a boyfriend who deserted her after going to London. She joked, “You Somali’s seem to pass the oceans with ease. When will you go to London? Maybe, you will find him for me.”

 

Well into their seventh month, that night arrived. As she finished her duty and prepared to leave, she asked if he can see her off. He felt obliged and accompanied her up to the Taxi station. Waiting for the Taxi, a bystander asked him whether the national TV will be broadcasting tonight’s big game.

 

“Which one?” Mohamed asked,

 

“The one between Turkey and England. England must win to qualify.” The man said.

 

Mohamed quickly decided to watch the match. He didn’t want to miss the misery of the English. He relishes when those loud-mouths are silenced. He asked Kistet if she can keep him company as he watches the game in a nearby Sportsbar. She accepted. There was no looking back from that day onwards. They hardly spent a night without one another. He cheated himself that it was a temporary transgression, which will end soon when he finally settles to marry the decent Somali girl waiting for him.

 

Things turned to take an ugly turn when Kistet introduced him to Major Atakilti Nigusse, head of the central intelligence unit as her elder brother. Mohamed greeted him nervously, wondering if the same hands he shook are soaked with the blood of his fellow Somali’s wantonly killed by Ethiopian army in his country of origin. But what he heard was even more freighting.

 

Major Atakilti, displayed his pistol, and chuckling, he said, “take care of the young sister. She says you are about to get married. If she is happy with you, why not? If she cries in anger for a single day, you will be crying for eternity. Ah! Ah! Ah! I am kidding.”

 

Until she uttered the excruciating words, as they lied back on one of their many furtive beds, in the middle of the night, Mohamed genuinely felt there is no reason why he has to disdain this prize of destiny. She was hot, humorous and munificent in her love. She sang for him in her local language with irresistible charm:

 

As they stare at you from head to heel,

Tell them to spare your eyes and teeth

If they still insist in gazing at it, with their covetous eyes

Please! Please! Tell them ‘fine, but my heart is hers’

 

He could no longer take any more iniquitous jokes. He quickly dressed up and left the room. He vowed there will be no more contact between them.

 

Yet, a week before his supposed wedding, he was in La gazelle night club with her. She wore white pyjamas and jumped up and down on the stage under the giant Plasma screen.

 

But, his self-hate for being a paltry incapable of containing his corporeal desires subsided when he saw the big Sheik, with elongated beard twisting it like no one does, next to her. The Shiek was a superb dancer, matching every beat thrown at the large screen on the wall with awe-inspiring efficacy: The Rap, Meringue, Tango, Ragge and even to Gosaye’s ‘Evangadi’ - the melancholic rhythm played in the dim floor of the sweltering Night club, mimicking the love-making rituals of the Hamer people in southern tip of Ethiopia. He felt consecrated. “If the Sheik can do this, God will forgive me for misbehaving”, he thought. The joy was short-lived as he soon greeted the Sheikh.

 

“Sheikh, Aslaamu Calykum. I am…” He extended his hand for a greeting;

The midnight crescendo was deafening. The Sheikh supported his ear with his left hand, and leaned forward.

 

“What?”

 

“Sheikh, Asalaamu calykum”

 

“I don’t speak Arabic. Sorry” The Sheikh told him.

 

“How come?” he inquired, little bit irritated.

 

“I am Sikh. I am Indian.”

 

So, after all, all the rationalizing was in vain. At about the same time, he saw Major Atakilti entering the club, looking drunk and fractious. Mohamed ejected through the back door and run for his life. What he couldn’t stop for fear of God, it seems he would stop for fear of a human. Last night, Kistet told him her brother was asking too many questions about the lifestyle of Mohamed. “Why does he live in a Hotel for so long? For over a year? Can the small money he gets from the NGO he works for really allow him to live so prolifically?”

 

Mohamed knew there was nothing of value that he got from Kistet that would help his suffering people in Somalia. He also knew he wasn’t really in it for anything outside fleshly motivations. But, somehow he felt his soul needed to be saved for a moment from the enormous guilt that was chewing it. “I tried my best to help my people. I hate this Ethiopians, and I will hurt them in all ways I am capable of. And if I have to err for the cause, it is worth the pain” He said.

 

He reached to his pocket and got hold of his cell phone.

 

“Ayan, hello, where are you?”

 

“In Nairobi, she said. Why do you pretend you don’t know?” His fiancée asked,

 

“I need to get out of Ethiopia. I am now renting a car to get to the border. Kindly make sure you get the right papers and come and help me cross to Kenya”.

 

“I will. I am sure you must have good reasons to be in such hurry. I will speak to Wali and we will be coming soon. Don’t worry.” She said, grateful the long wait is over.

 

Then, his phone rang again. It was Kistet.

 

“I am happy you left the club. My brother and his soldiers are in bad mood and I lied to them. I think you should keep a low profile for a while. Anyway, see you tomorrow night in Gojjo restaurant. I will tell you more.”

 

“Kistet, I will be in touch soon. I will tell you where I am. And surely, you will join me.”

 

He meant it. Somehow, he felt he will be happy with her in Nairobi. His thighs shuddered at the thought of her salacious strides in the bedroom. He also knew there is no way he will marry her. He respects and honestly likes his roots.

 

The next morning the Zemen newspaper carried this story in the front page: POLICE ON THE LOOK OUT FOR AL-SHABAB- AL ISLAMIYA OPERATIVE IN ADDIS ABABA.

 

His name was said to be Mohamed Abdirahman Siraaje. The police warned the public that ‘Mohamed’ may just be one of many names they think he uses, and asked people to be vigilant and careful as the man is believed to be a ring leader of a cell of dangerous Islamic terrorists from Somalia who are planning a major attack to disrupt the celebration of the Ethiopian Millennium.

 

Mohamed woke up only to see Agnes, the Kamba prostitute he slept with last night, has no hair. He knew he is safe. He is in Nairobi.

 

Three weeks later, I was given an invitation card for the wedding of Ayan and Mohamed in Safari Hotel. As the bride and groom held hand-in-hand and approached the decorated perch, I looked at the eye of the ecstatic Ayan and wondered if she knows all the things I know.

 

In commiseration, I almost decided to tell her.

[Valenteenah.]

Titillating. Mohamed is the perfect example of how to spread AIDS.

 

I think Xiin ought to keep away from this thread - not only are there knickers galore but also condoms! Ceebay tacaal.

[Kool_Kat]

after disposing the pile of seven condoms they used in the course of the passionate night.

Iyaah, Energizer bunny lee iga dheh: "keeps going, and going, and going, and going"...Najeynaa!

 

Mohamed nin dheelaayo ma'aha, from Kistet to Agnes and finally settling for Ayaan cadeey...What does that make him toloow? A male *****!

[peasant]

AT still peddling his sick stories!.....man shagging wheelchair bound chick, benevolent hooker and etc...This shid is never ending.. Waraa quraan saar baad u bahantahay

[Miskiin-Macruuf-Aqiyaar]

Dadkiina aqriyo wuxuu ninkaan qoro and then complain about the contents you already know waxa kasoo bixi doono. Why u aqrineysiin his stories. Anigaba maba aqriyo, and surely I have no problem with them.

 

If you don't want to read that 'dirty' stuff, then don't read. It is as simple as it gets. Wah.

 

Kuusha, would you be so kind to summarize what the story is about. Sabaltiibada meesha ka dhaceyso aaba la yaabee. Hal habeen toddobo dhan la isticmaalay, dad loo gali karo ma'aha dadkaas then.

[peasant]

^ Adiga tiisa ma akhrisatid balse waxa umada kale ku jawaabto baad akhrisaa! markaa hadii jawaabta umada kalena ay iyana ku dhibayso iska dhaaf gabi ahaan in aad riixdo ciwaanka sheekoyinka AT oo dhan.how about that? Wah Wah badan baa kuu dhaqaalobi doonta

[Kool_Kat]

Originally posted by peasant:

Wah Wah badan baa kuu dhaqaalobi doonta

LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL...Good one!

 

MMA, saa u maleysid ma'aha sheekada...Condomska wey ku qaldameen, buufiney u maleeyeen...Hade ma wuxuu qaamooqanshiir ku dhicinaa iyagana the next day...

 

Seriously though, people just need let A&T be A&T...Xey udaaba socodaan horta?Mardhow dhuusadiisay dhihi doonaan half way around the world bay nooga soo urtay! Taasna wey dhici doontaa...

 

Teeda kale I have a feeling some are using the greatest technique, better known as 'reverse psychology'...May be, just may be, they enjoy his writings and don't know any better way to motivate him to continue to write so they can enjoy it...

 

Next time, flying rajabeeto iyo dirac la isku jeexjeexaayo lee amuu soo qoraa!!!

[Miskiin-Macruuf-Aqiyaar]

Peasant, I am not complaining, igaarka. But were you?

 

Sheekada waana aqrinaa, then waana indulge gareynaa oo miraheeda ayaan dhuuxaa and then finally complain about those stories until the end la aqristay all the time -- that is a triple wah, of course. Wah, wah, wah.

 

Kuusha, adiga dadkaas aa ka mid tahay yaah, marka? I for one will welcome any rajastiino iyo rajabeeto duuleyso, kastuuma biibeysana suubis ha laga dhigo as well.

[Abtigiis]

Originally posted by peasant:

AT still peddling his sick stories!.....man shagging wheelchair bound chick, benevolent hooker and etc...This shid is never ending.. Waraa quraan saar baad u bahantahay

 

waryaa waxaas ka baxoo, is seven really impossible? I know it is on the upper end. Laakiin, I want xaasleeyda to reflect on their honeymoons. of course, mohamed might have been extra careful and might have used double.

 

KK- gabdhaha masaakiinta ah ee la isu soo maydh-maydhayo for the Aross, need to insist for HIV test, and should take time to know who they are marrying.

 

Val, the other side of the story is that despitehis worthless nature, how mohamed was still victimised just because he is a somali and his name if not his act is an islamic one.

[Jacaylbaro]

It is not a short story ,, i printed it out and it is like 3 pages ,,,,

 

Lemme try to read bal during the lunch time ,,,

[Jacaylbaro]

Ok ,, just finished the story ,,, looooooool ,

 

 

after disposing the pile of seven condoms they used in the course of the passionate night.

Inaalillaahi ,,,, :confused:

 

 

“Sheikh, Asalaamu calykum”

 

“I don’t speak Arabic. Sorry” The Sheikh told him.

 

“How come?” he inquired, little bit irritated.

 

“I am Sikh. I am Indian.”

 

 

POLICE ON THE LOOK OUT FOR AL-SHABAB- AL ISLAMIYA OPERATIVE IN ADDIS ABABA.

....... How typical Typical

[xiinfaniin]

Waa markiisii!

[-Serenity-]

^Too tame. Come again.

[xiinfaniin]

Serenity,

 

Aw Tusbaxle is just like the proverbial man with hal-hays xun! I could talk to him out of his bad habits today, but he will be back at it tomorrow. I didn’t read the story. But I trust good Vals assessment of it . Matatayaashii bacaa wehliyya, she reporteed .

[nuune]

^^ lol@Matatayaashii bacaa wehliyya