What do you think of..........?

[Fabregas_Bruv]

The following short, but uncompleted story( of sorts):

 

As he stood in front of his mirror, neatly brushing the afro on his slightly extended forehead into shape, Cawale Mohamed, the rangy Somali teenager from North London, was eagerly looking ahead to his much-anticipated date with Nimco. Cawale and Nimco had met at a poetry contest, which was organised by a government funded youth group. She was a nice girl from a hardworking family. Cawale told her he was studying A Levels at a local college.

 

 

After combing the Afro, his next mission was to convince his argumentative, but extremely intelligent roommate, SOAS graduate and older brother, Abdisamad, to lend him his slick River Island Jacket. Cawale’s persuasion mission was successful. After uploading some more music onto his phone and checking whether he had everything he needed for the third time, Awale had one more mission to accomplish. He quickly dashed to the basement room. The young warrior checked if anyone was lurking and then he hurriedly concealed the Knife into the inside pocket of the Black River Island jacket. This was an almost daily routine.

 

 

By now, Cawale had made his out of the high rising block of New Labour flats. But as he walked a hundred or so metres, he could not believe his eyes: the dreaded Askar were there. They had set up a checkpoint. 5 technicals were also parked on the other side of the road.It was clear that they were looking for any young warriors with links to the Brixton Burco Boyz FAM Clan.

 

 

In a moment of sudden panic, Awale turned back home. He had the dilemma of his young life. A brief battle occurred between his two conflicting rationales. Should he leave his knife behind and daringly cross onto the territory of the Shepherd Bakara Market Boyz? What if the police sent him back to the young offenders institute ? The boys’ sensible rationale slowly took over. It was not worth the risk, he figured. More importantly, his mind reassured him that it was unlikely he would bump into the rival FAM on a wet Wednesday night.

 

So once again, Awale set out for his meeting, though this time without the knife. Bismillah, in the name of Allah, the young warrior said in his mind, as he departed. All was well. The police did not pay attention to the smartly dressed, lanky teenager. Cawale boarded the now almost deserted Victoria Line. He had arranged to meet Nimco at the village, the famous Somali restraint in Hammersmith, West of London.

 

Halfway through the journey, a strange visitor interrupted him. “Salamualaykum, Akhi, how are you doing"?,the bearded stranger enquired. Before he could make sense of the face, Cawale politely replied, “Wa'laykumsalam bro”. “You don’t remember me do you…you used to live on the road Farm Estate, innit”?, the bearded man enquired. “Yeah”, Awale Replied. Normally Awale would lie about what side of town he was from. But the white thobes and beard was a sign of trust. “It’s me, Jerome, but they call me Abu Salafi now”, said the now recognisable figure. A chorus of relieving laughter and some catching up followed.

 

Abu Salafi explained how his life had changed after an invitation to Islam by a polite Somali Sheikh named Tahir. He had also married a Somali girl. Writing Grime lyrics was no longer part of his life. Before he got off half way thorough the journey, Abu Salafi lectured Awale on the dangers of sinning, how the Shababs (youth in Arabic) of today must change and how the turncoats were betraying the religion. Abu Salafi gave him a list of deviated sects to steer clear from. Cawale had forgotten most of them by the time the driver instructed the passengers that they were now nearing the last station: the (notorious)Bush Bakara Market.

[Cabdow]

Not bad sxb! So where is the rest? Mise sheekadu waa installments

 

Btw, it would've been more exciting had u said 9mm instead of knife, only wuzzies carry that shidh ninyow

[Nin-Yaaban]

Oh wow, this is ******* intense. This is NY Times best seller quality.

[5]

I liked it.

 

There's a novel written by a non-Somali about a Somali girl, you guys heard of it? It's a teen novel, so if you bring yourself forward, be warned that everyone will think you're a freak. And "my little sister/daughter/niece read it" isn't an excuse.

 

Anyway, back to Fabregas' story. I wouldn't mind reading more. I like the fact that this is a story about a young offender, who changes by falling in love. I like the fact that he is trying to present himself as someone better than he actually is. But I also think you explain too much. For example, instead of saying his brother is intelligent, show it. Write a bit of dialogue where it becomes evident. Gives us insight into their lives, how they live (how different they are) how his brother's room looks, what books he keeps in his bookshelf (does the brother work? if so, where? would it manifest in his brother having a flat screen TV for example in his room?). Describe and show, don't just say.

Also make the police bit more intense. I won't go into details but I'll just say this: don't make moral judgements for the reader. Let the reader decide for themselves if something is right or wrong. The last paragraph is preachy.

 

Looking forward to reading more!

[Chocolate and Honey]

I liked it. I actually liked the fact the you didnt show a diologue between the two brothers as that can come later when you explain his family dynamics. I liked that you concentrated on whats going on in his mind at this particular night: his fear, his reasoning, his panic and the dillema of the police. Nice job. Is this the opening? if it is, you need more details, like how the bedroom looks like, what is he wearing, does he have friends from the gang he ditched? Overall Nice Job.

I think we should have a thread where people post their short stories! A lot of talent here.