A Novelty Experiance: Read on

[Sophist]

Salaams, bare with me and give me five minutes of your time!!!

 

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A novelty Experiance:

 

It is 20 minutes passed 2pm and I feel hatchet to pieces. I have just woken up after a long night of booze, Cocaine and Champaign of which I had NONE- let me begin with how the evening started.

 

I had received a telephone call from Omar. Omar is a friend studying PPE (not public partnership Economy but Philosophy, Politics and Economics) at Pembroke College, Oxford. Omar is a typical (more emphasises on the MONETARY side of things- let just say he is well enriched) Arabian Gulf boy who indeed has no worries apart from where he will get his next Cocaine lines. We haven’t seen each other much due to the Summer Break which he mostly spent in Lebanon and Bahrain (his native country Bahrain and Lebanon for the pleasure it installs for it is visitors- or so I was told) so rationally we had to catch up. He reminded me that we were scheduled to meet this evening. I said, okay I will take a nap and God willing I will call you 4 hours time; He shouted No wills, no shoulds, meet me at … …..(The meeting place was at a Flat in QueensGate, one of the most Poshest spot of residence in London.)

 

As I knew that the night has to be a promising night filled with enthralling surprises and full of mad enjoyment. I went to bed 6pm preparing myself what this much anticipated night would bring.

 

Waking up to the vapidly boring tune of my mobile, I reached for it. As replied without looking at the screen of the mobile as “normal” people do; I heard a voice of a familiar sound, HEY WAKE YOUR ARSE, YOU BLOODY SKINNY BOY shouted the voice (a reference from Black Hawk Down film). Knocked for six (toph word for shocked) to hear such chauvinistic utterance I replied with equal racialist and said “WHO THE HECK IS THIS PALLID HOMO BASTERDISED ENGLISH GIT”?. An ill-omened laughter that was almost convincing came through my phone! Hey mate it Charlie!. Charles is a product of Westminster and Magdalene College, Oxford. He is currently working as a Trainee Producer for the BBC. A wavy hair and air of aristocratic ooze that is utterly not à la mode for 2002 accompanies him wherever he goes, though he tries to tune it down with a Nigerian Girlfriend who for his misfortune is more Posh than him with annoyingly Husky Accent that Boris (forgot his last name; a columnist for the Times in London Newspaper: Eton, Worcester College, Oxford educated) makes him a commoner. Hey buddy, what is up with you? (Couldn’t resist sounding like a character from that black movie Barbeque; but I must say I failed miserably. Everything is tip top (for your American reader and run down Londoners Tip Top means Very well indeed another toph word); I am here with Omar and Darrell. This is Good; I thought to myself. Darrell is an American Boy. He is the Son of one of the Oil Barons in Taxes- Makes the Bushes just a Shaarishaari (for those of you who aren’t not familiar with the term Shaari-Shaari, I beg you to ask your family elders who are familiar with the High Barrow Somali “kidding, it is slang word for females who transformed themselves from Mothers to a well intentioned Business women when their Husbands couldn’t take the family responsibilities* in this context I mean to say The Bushes Money is a meagre in Comparison to Darrell’s Fortune). He is a fun loving, uncharacteristically un-American. Speaks 7 languages with ease; and flirted with Somali language a bit. He lived in Djibouti for 3months and went to Somalia 2 years ago (he tells me that Somalis are very inviting- he went to Berbara and Hargeisa for fun). I said hello Darrell. They demanded my Address and I gave to them. Darrell said he is familiar with that area. He works for Lehman Brothers (an Investment Bank- I don’t understand why, he read Semitic studies at Harvard and Arabic MA at Pembroke College, Oxford) at 1 Canada Waters in Canary Wharf. I took a quick Bath and ……..!I am not going to bore you with descriptivism and I certainly not with my tedious Attire- actually that is debateable whether the attire I wore was dull or interesting and fitting for the occasion (mind you an evening with these friends is unpredictable. It can range from a Theatre to a Jazz place called Rodney Scott’s (for those who like Jazz this place is the haven) or from China White (a Dancing place in West End of London) to a seedy Arabic place called Blush in Duke Street or even from A classy Bar to a commoner club that they can derive a bit of Ethnic as I normally called it). So I came to my relatively modest wardrobe and looked at the usual suspects. My ayes fell unto this Silky embroiled with a classy authentic Cashmere garment from……………………….! Ala Hayaay What the hell am I doing, I am boring you with nity gritty details. Without a further ado, this is how the evening started.

 

The honk of the car was a signal that they were here. I came to the lift and Gosh the lift is not working. This is what I hate living in this Council house (for the benefit of American readers council house is a government provided house for the common people). I was left with no option but to take the stairs, a well adopted stairs. Came out of the house and I saw this darling of a car. It was Dark Black Range Rover with light brown leader seats. I came in said hello. Charlie was driving and I said, what happened to your Aston Martin?. His reply was I have to be your Driver you buggers. Charlie normally drives Vantage Aston Martin Car which he was given as a present for his 21 first birthday. Quite a car, 12 horse engine power and if you sit in it you will feel like Frederick Windsor (Yes a genuine Windsor, he Calls himself Lord Windsor, the son of Prince Michael of Kent, reading Classics at Magdalene College, we shall come to him latter).

 

After going to the American Bar at the Savoy, taking loads of Alcohol. Omar enjoys a good old Champaign and Charlie bets to finish 7 bottles of Champaign within 6 minutes. I suggested that we shouldn’t take the car. Darrell Said, Come on now, you know this is like normal to Charlie. He just had 2 glasses, as you know he can finish 2 bottles without getting drunk. With tenacity, I insisted that we should use the Good Old Black Cab (A Taxi). Charlie, came up with suggestion that meant that we wouldn’t be in need for Public transport. He reached for his Mobile, a cheek silver mobile that nearly cost half a grand Sterling. He called his Father’s Driver. The driver took his time, which meant I needed to drink more and more distilled water; where the chaps kept going to the facility rooms and taking what I later been told to be Cocaine. I behaved as natural as any Somali boy who only saw Cocaine in the Television would have behaved. Darrell who really didn’t know me as well as these chaps do suggested I should try some, to which before I replied to him Charlie said, Farah ( Good name huh! My Grandfather’s name) is a unadulterated, unsullied dove who socialises with bloodthirsty falcons who like eating flesh like he enjoys a good old grain. That was a fair description, at least I though at the time. Though later it dawn on me!. God, Am I really a dove, are the chaps I enjoy their company (at least when they are sober) are hawks and falcons. Am I not flying with my flock?. What does this make me? Am I not being true to myself? More importantly what makes who I am! Why am I questioning myself?. Is this one of those psuedo-philosophical moments we undergo? Or is this a justifiable way of trying to sort out what I am. Come on Farah this is not your first Essay for Descartes Meditations, this is about last night and what made you write this and make it public to the Somalis on the Somalionlie. Anyhow, it was a jolly good time. The driver came at last. There you are my old boy; cried Charlie. The driver was a guy from Ghana as I had learnt later. He was cultured and to my utter astonishment enjoyed what he does for a living. He was either mischievously clever or he was stupidly honest and enjoyed driving around his Boss (who as I can remember from last year was an Old Etonian, Major in the Army and later life became a successful business man in property industry- not an easy Boss to satisfy). The Driver couldn’t believe that a refugee Somali boy had found his way into this Circle. He naively but honestly said to me in private how come I am a good friend with this chap, meaning Charles? I just laughed and said what do you mean? And there he couldn’t indulge me further, so naturally we left the conversation hanging.

 

As we were about to leave the Hotel, Elizabeth called. Elizabeth Shrewsbury is a dear darling who is amiable and has humility that Charlie is desperate to gain. She is Second year student at Trinity College, reading History and Politics. A long hair that even the Lebanese girls will envy, bright green mixed with hazel come out a colour that the Oxford Dictionary of Colour would struggle to define. Her wit, chastity, beauty and razor sharp brain coupled with her blue bloodedness makes her the hottest girl in Oxford. But hear this, she is still VIRGIN. She believes that women shan’t dispose their most precious treasure. They should guide it with their utmost ability. I often joke with her (and secretly hope they she one day considers Islam as her way of life) that she is like a Muslim girl and always without hesitant replies with a response that touches the deepest arteries in my heart. For example, this summer we had; she and other couple of University friends and I a picnic in Hyde Park. While enjoying our rhetorical muscles flexing and trying to outwit ourselves, two young moderately well looking Somali girls, though badly dressed with a two Ethnic boys (Black Boys) whose attire seemed to be falling off from their mush starved buttocks disturbed our sophistry. They we kissing like they had been to places that my imagination fails to reach. Naturally, as a good natured Somali boy I felt revolted and horror-struck that such outrageous act can be displayed in public. My face changed, my ayes came out of their sockets, and I felt sick. And as I was to throw up they decided to go more quitter place, because they had realised our stare. And moments later, Some Somali boys were doing exactly the same with another Somali and what looked like a darkened Indian female. I felt disgusted. And thought Gosh is this something that is quite trendy these days! Are we still in Victorian age (actually Victorian age is famous of sleaze and sedulously seedy perhaps Edwardian Age is more appropriate). Sorrrrrrrrrrrry guys I have been derailed. Yes, after exchanging few well natured remarks, she enquired where I was. I told her that I was leaving Savoy. Wow, what are you doing there! Are you with the Vampires, meaning this lot I was with. Charlie can not stand her and thinks she is a self cantered pretty little girl who thinks herself to be a moral Guardian. In point of fact, she is all that apart from conceitedly haughty. Try to be an ethical person in a place filled with amoral people. Where are you guys heading to, asked Elizabeth?. Hold on a second I said. Where are we off to guys?. Ten Rooms shouted Darrell who was sitting at the front. Omar said, no, I despise the place. I want a quite place until I get into a party mood. My God I said quietly, you had nearly a bottle of Champaign and 3 lines of Charlie (Charlie meaning Cocaine). Okay we shall take the troops to China White. Did you hear that Liz? Yeah, I am actually a minute away from there I will meet The LORD (Frederick Windsor). I said Shit. He invited me to a party last night but I said I couldn’t come due to unforeseen circumstances. I dislike his social friends. The Tophs are different. Generally speaking Old Harrovians (Harrow is a independent school in furthest of West London- Harrow. If you can pay £20 grand a year plus other paraphernalia that comes with it then there is a possibility that you might be admitted- I say might cause money is secondary the primary is the family tradition:::: the English vice; the Class system) and old Etonians (another Boarding school) are pain in the neck. Especially Eton Boys think like they are the Citizens of Sparta State (those of you who is familiar with Classics, Sparta was the strongest state in old Greece, The philosophy of English Boarding schools stem from there as Bertrand Russell himself an Etonian attests in his Opus Magnum Book “The History of Western Philosophy” a jolly good book if you like that kind of thing). This Freddy guy as we know him thinks he is the Zeus of tophs like Zeus himself was the Biggest God in Old Greece and flaunts with it. It is abhorrence for someone to use his class background as weapon and a ticket to a better life. But hey this is England and it does not belong to me, I have to live with it and tell myself I belong to no class and I will be what I make of myself- so I tell myself. Commonly (and I dislike generality) speaking we are the product of our environment. But you can change that. I think determination is the key to a successful and fulfilling living curve. There are many complex factors that spawn a desire to learn and progress. It is true that the inquisitive urge is fundamentally inherent in all people, but to leave it that would be far too simple. When the famous Lebanese poet Kahlil Gibran was asked what the best training for an insightful and perceptive mind; he replied “an eventful childhood”. I think what Gibran deemed to be an eventful childhood is a childhood wrought with uncertainties and questions. Growing up in turbulent and difficult climes (Somalia) amongst most passionate and temperamental people has posed many difficult questions and uncertainties were an ever-present feature of my life. Therefore, like most people my childhood has engraved the themes which I occupy myself in later life. Themes such as the constant struggle between tradition and progress, whether there really must be a trade off between thinking and following and are struggles of the present strong enough to abort the hatred and suspicions sowed in the past. I believe themes of such depth and sourced from experience should be the backdrop one’s outlook of life. I am a firm believer that a character development be a remedial science rather than an indulgence in passive didacticism. Anyway, it does not matter whether like me you came to England knowing of the English language nothing and with a determination and an urge to alter your future one can change one’s attitude to life. Our past should never be a hindrance to our future. And if you are like Freddy who since he was born had a silver spoon in his mouth and been told he is like a small God that can also be altered. A reality check needs to be in hand.

 

Anyhow, we reached China White. The cue was ridiculously long. We got of the car at the front of the venue. The chap at the door “bouncer” recognised Charlie and let us through without problems. Charlie went back to the Driver and asked him nicely whether he fancied to com in and experience the environment of China White, he smiled a big West African smile, and I swear you could see his last tooth. They parked the car and joined what ended to be a jolly for them and outrageously zany for me.

 

The night started with a delicious fruits from exotic places. The place was filled with ladies that seemed to be from elysian-fields but was like a shallow dried river. Elizabeth came toward me she looked like she is worth a Million Camels in Nugal Valley. She was tall, beautiful woman with a tremendous plait of hair and a great display of slender white but tanned shoulders and neck, round which she wore a double string of large pearls, walked towards us rustling her heavy silk gown and taking long time to reach the table were all sitting. As a gent I stood up to welcome this somewhat a beautiful lady- she looked like those genetically modified female to pollute me; though she looked more graceful. Unlike the upper echelons of English females kiss (they have this strange way kissing the air) she placed her sumptuous cheeks upon to my moist cheeks. The scent of her perfume smelt like the air that comes just before the rain starts. She was undoubtedly the most graciously sizzling girl at the club. After the polite and formal complimentaries, she suggested that I should come to her table for she wanted me to meet some people that I might enjoy their company. Darrell who was intoxicated with the beauty of Elizabeth found himself examining the long and picturesque neck and shoulders, the pearls and the coiffure of Liz and profoundly admired her majesty and grandeur. Just as Darrell was going to take the second look at Liz, the lady glanced round and meeting the eyes of Darrell she smiled, her teeth glistening with a purity of a small dove who just experienced the first seconds of her life outside the dark womb of her mother.I…………………………….

[Jamster]

wooooooooooooooow some people knows how to have fun. come on give us all, finish the story.

[3zma1L]

I wunder... if I could give you more than 5 mnts NEXT time.

 

Or was this tragically the end of it? :confused:

[Sophist]

Ismail and others.

 

My fellow, I am sorry I have wasted your time- it is a polymathc and wide ranging piece of writing. It conveys msg! read between the lines.

[3zma1L]

I thought that Robbert Ludlum was in the Forum... I was just getting ready for the NEXT Mind boggling epesode, but THANKS to Allmighty, it is over!

[Sophist]

And there I was thinking SOCRATES OR IBN TAYMIYAH HAD BEEN RESSURECTED !

[3zma1L]

Jihad against the Tatars NEXT episode?

 

This man is better to be left alone in his own grave.

[Sophist]

Ibnu Taymiyah VS JENKHISKHAN! I am sure it will be a good read.

 

I am with Ibnu Taymiyah all the way.

[lol]

Sophist: If I am not wrong, it says camel Milk debate archive, and your story was one that is intended for entertainment, so my tiny brain is wondering what is there to debate on...coz believe me I read more than once to comprehend your story and like u said, " I READ BETWEEN THE LINES".. yet I can't seem to get the whole point of this... so little elaboration at ur part would be much appreciated!

If I am however, out of my league certainly accept my apologies......

[Sophist]

Salamu alaikum

 

Hibo:

 

Very interesting you point out such a faithful point which I have in a mishap over looked lightly- though I must say, there is an angle that can be found to initiate a discussion. To be pedantic; that is to say to be samey to the word one can without out difficulty point out some of the issues raised within that sinister (as one of the chaps referred when he send me a private memo) piece of writing. Let me without being conceitedly haughty point out, the issue of Virginity: Remember my friend Elizabeth? Elizabeth who is extremely Liberal with celestial characteristics and intellect has chosen to stay virgin. This anecdote provides a bleak paradigm that our brothers and sisters to gain a niche of light. It shows that staying faithful to ones believes (however it might be archaic to his/her peers) is something that can be done in the west. I believe social issues that face us in our daily life should be a point of discussion. Hence, Virginity, I believe is a quite imperative issue and needs to be discussed. Many youngsters in the west are caught up with WHAT IS hip. In the Media, University campuses bombard us with Sexual imagery. Where ever you look there are genetically modified human beings to pollute other humans.

 

Also, there were points of references made in the piece in order to encourage youngsters. For example, the idea of breaking-out this ever difficult of Newtonian Inertia can be broken. One can be from a poor, war driven society but one can made and shape his destiny (though everything is written, we have been encouraged to work hard). According to my feeble mind, I believe the power of will. If there is a will there is a way. This is not a heresy but it is inline with Islamic principles.

 

Further, the piece emphasises that one can be individual. As you have seen throughout the piece the Boys Farah was with had money intoxicants but Farah remained to drink miner al water through out the night. This is a classic example of not giving in to the peer pressure.

 

Hibo, I hope I have explained the angle well, sorry for the spelling miskes.

 

Sophist

[Sophist]

Ezmail and where is battle akhiii

[Baydan]

I just finished the 5th paragraph, dont have time but will come back to it ...this takes way more than 5min Sophist Lol. Excellent narration so far. Love the language, I think you're gifted. Socrates hmm was into soo much analaysing, defining, insearch for the truth and self discovery, I'll say Ludlum like Izmail had mentioned.

[Iffah]

Salaams,

 

Sophist. That was well written. I didn't think I would stick around to read the whole thing when I saw it's length, but I guess I got hooked.

& your eloboration was quite helpful too. I'll check out the concluding paragraphs.

 

One more thought. Don't hang around with those bloodthirsty falcons too much.... or you'll see yourselve quenching your thirst with booze too. You can not resist peer pressure for too long

[3zma1L]

I remmember of a guy who always wanted to prove something I did not knew much about in an abstract form.

 

Oh.... Where was I?

 

This world is so compalicated that you need sometimes to sit and ponder solutions over... but, for me...each time I want to concentrate, my mind drifts away.. hovering around the old good days or the recent (bad) days.

 

That was why I lost the....

[3zma1L]

............

 

Battle