ON WHY HOPE IS ESSENTIAL FOR PEACE BUILDING in Somalia..(why despair is such a shitty feeling) ..

Today, as I was discussing with a colleague about some current issues in the world, we diverged from a topic to a topic fiercely agreeing on many things, then we settled to untangle and decipher the knot of Somalia navigating through our many complicated deep-rooted issues in Somalia.

He was very pessimistic, saying that he would never understand or work with Somalis, that Somalis were nomads, that there was a barrier of understanding and communication between him and them. But the most shocking statement of all was when he said, “We are better off if the government of Somalia sells our land to foreign countries/investors to make it progress!!!".

Ok. Language is not limited to verbal or non verbal communication that helps us connect to each other and carry out our social affairs. Language extended to our emotions; we communicate our moods, our emotions, good and bad, positive or negative. This is especially true and apparent when a certain emotion dominates a person and it becomes his/her 'aura', when we dislike being around them because of their gloominess and bleakness. When they communicate their lack of hope, it discourages us and dampen our instincts for hope, our aspiration to 'believe' despite all the odds that we may face.

You see, I say that the most expensive emotion of this era is hope, for hope is the wellspring from which all other good emotions emerge from. Hope is the motor for creativeness, for possibilities, for a better tomorrow, and losing it `at such 'dark times'` is very disastrous to humanity in general and to us, Somalis, especially.

With all the poverty, crisis, wars, internal feuds, crimes, injustices, and discrimination happening around us every second, with negativity controlling our headlines, with us fully being engaged and graphically or virtually connected, it depresses us, it makes us feel helpless and hopeless, and most importantly 'cynical' about humanity.

In these cases you will either dwell in floods of despair and 'avoidance' at your best when you’re being compassionate and empathetic  or bunk in a “I don’t care, its none of my business” apathetic, passive attitude “if it’s not happening to me then it’s not real!!”   

I feel like these two attitudes are negative, because negativity isn’t just a state of mind, it’s the absence of positivity and hope, the absence of possibilities.  Looking at the world or our country (Somalia in my case) in a lens of gloominess and to decide it’s a hopeless case crying out loud with no shame “let’s sell our land and get rid of all our disagreements” is being in denial, lazy, passive and treasonous. 

Because belief and behavior are interconnected, by believing in negativity and losing hope in humanity we create more troubles in the world because it's a 'self fulfilling prophecy'. By focusing our headlines on all the wrongs in the world, by us focusing on how desperate the world is we cause and create more of it because we discourage people around us from 'doing good'!!!

When we communicate our emotions, we send of desperate signals to the world by being negative and losing hope then we become part of the problem by being fixating in a passive negative mood.

Hope believes that good will come in the future despite all the gloominess of the present. Hope is empowering by nature it creates visionaries and empower them.

All the great revolutionist of history who led humanity by example rallying for freedom and justice were inflamed with hope, without Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) believing that one day the message of Islam will conquer across the world, that the Almighty Allah (exalted is he) will be worshiped for his oneness he wouldn’t be chosen for that honorable message; a message that introduced the golden ages for a land that was dwelled in idolism and tribal long termed wars, a message that introduced the light of science and civilization to the western Europe that was deeply embedded in the 'dark ages' through Andalusia.

Without Martin Luther King’s dream and hope for a day when segregation ends who knows what would the state of African American civil right would be today?!.

Hope gives you an inside peace, it gives you the settlement of truce from the invasion of cynicism, the kind that my colleague was pushing at me today. I truly felt bad today hearing his comments about Somalia, I thought that he would most likely pass on his cynicism and negativity to his children , the 'future' of Somalia.

He communicated his negativity to me, he communicated fear to me; he made me feel like a 'fool' for believing in Somalia and the 'good' of my people. I tired communicating hope to him; I tried convincing him that hope is our stepping block towards reconciliation and peace building in our country.

I mean how bad do we really want to reach peace in our country? Will we forever hide behind the mask of tribalism, negativity and cynicism?

 If the answer is YES TO PEACE AND COUNTRY BUILDING then I say let’s start with building hope...hope within ourselves before others, because hope makes you believe and without believing we can never lit the candle of progress as a nation.
  

Hope is a very expensive commodity, that’s why it’s easier and cheaper to despair! and despair is indeed a 'shitty' feeling because its the mother of all bad gloomy emotions. So, let’s communicate hope and our message shall reach Inshallah. Let’s teach it to our kids and Somalia and the world will be fine again.

If not than, at least keep your mouth shut, keep it to yourself. Stop discouraging people, feeding them off of your poison; people who are eager to re-build what everyone else is busy using, destroying or in most cases ignoring !! People who chose to "believe' when everyone else hid behind their masks.


Asia

Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. ~Anne Lamott

WHEN WE LOSE SIGHT OF WHAT MATTERS THE MOST...

Last night I was with a habryar, a wise habryar, full of wisdom they called her af janoo 

She seemed sad and distressed of what came off to Somali homes like a curse

She said:  

Why do I see Somali women kicking off proudly their men?

Why do I hear them cursing when he breaks his curfew of ten?

Why do they throw him out in snow trenches like a broody hen?

Where is our exalted fortitude as Somali wo-men

Where is our patience, our cool, our capacity to trust them?

Why are xalimoos bringing shame to us, just to claim the game of guts?  Once that little paper is signed off?

Why did we come out here, in the snow, from our land?  

To wrangle and strangle?  Or to raise and rise?

To fix the mess, to jam the hole or to mix papers and wham wham act like nuts?

When did we lose direction? When did we lose our compass our faith?

Why are we causing this huge rumpus, when we allowed them to act like that?

You can’t teach an old dog a new trick, or maybe you can??!!

Flick the dust and BOOM a NEW farax comes out of the un-named can!

It all started from home, it’s how a mother raised him to be a man

When a disturbed idle father was all he saw in his life span

Like a father like a son, unless hoyoo burns that to the ground  

When we lose our temper, our fortitude, we lose our mental strength

We pant, we crumble, we cry…we lose sight of whats matters the most, our kids!

We forget that our children are the collateral damage of all this mess

we wrangle and strangle, and forget to rise and raise 

we drown in the mud of our own mess, we wham wham like a brick on a shelf

then we crumble, we pant, we cry ..and our kids rot in jails 

So maybe, it’s  high time for us to pick our battles right..

I stood for a camel in my dream, or shall I say in my nightmare?..

Last night I had a weird dream.

I remember the dream clearly, I was in Kenya (no specific city) with some friends, attending a theater play by some Somali talented group (this narrows down the cities!), though the play was unique and in a way could be improved a lot (I was commenting all through the play) I was awed by the unique stage props they managed to bring into the play, where in they brought some horses and camels to the stage!!

After the unique play finished, the actors exit from the stage and only one camel in particular remained because it was so stubborn to move and they couldn’t evacuate it out.

A black security lady came in, with her firm frowning emotionless face and a strong hand she started punishing and whipping the poor camel, I was shocked by what I was witnessing. Suddenly, I saw milk dripping from the camel (apparently it was a female!) all over with none stop, but she continued whipping and the camel didn’t move an inch.

There were many remaining spectators at the audience section, but no one seemed to care!. I couldn’t tolerate the scene so I went down the stairs, straight to the lady.

I wasn’t sure whether she was a Somali or Kenyan (her features were confusing), so I spoke Somali first “maxaad u dilaysa miskiinkaan, miyanad ogeen inay tahay raxmaad in lo moojiyeoo xata xaywanka? ”

She looked un-bothered or disturbed, milk continued dripping down on the ground, (and no one even brought a container!! What waste)

She continued her job, trying to move the poor camel, by hitting and whipping.

I tried English and said “Ma’am why are you hitting this poor thing, with no mercy??? Can you not try evacuating it in some other way? ”

I was thinking “where are the damned actors who brought it in from the first place, aren’t they responsible for this creature’s suffering!”

She ignored me again, maybe she was deaf!!

“Was the pouring of milk involuntary action because of the unbearable pain??”  I thought.

So I started shouting fiercely and indiscriminately “STOP IT, STOP IT, YOU NEED TO STOP HITTING THE POOR CAMEL, YOU MERCILESS LADY WITH A HEART OF STONE!!”

I was so mad, by her action, by the silence of the audience who were merely bystanders unaffected by the scene, conversing with one another as if nothing is happening before their eyes. What bothered me most is the fact that they were Somali and a CAMEL was being abused right in front of them and they didn’t say a word!!.

I don’t know what happened nextto the poor camel because I woke up frightened from my sleep. It was a nightmare indeed!! 

like a nameless Raven 

Yes, I remember you ..

i remember your eyes red and dreary

like you've lost something, they seemed blank and wary

like a well, your sorrow was deeply sunk in worry

no bags, or backpack..

no money, or words..

just staring beyond me , or deep inside me...i was lost

as if you were three in one, you ordered your tea

crossing your skinny legs, you never uttered a word

like a silent raven from another world

i was confused..it was absurd

I asked "can i help you adeer?"

you jumped, in a hurry like a deer

got closer to my leather desk

your index and middle finger poked at me, like a spree

just staring beyond me, or deep inside me, i was terrified, i was lost

you were three in one again..

then left in a swift..like a nameless raven
with no bags, or backpack
with no money, or words..

Ehm ehm..
you know that annoying Farax
who's all about cashar and sharax
he thinks he gets it all figured out 
he goes around preaching without a doubt
his favorite cashar is politics yo..
he hits it below the belt like a pro
his always on the run never stops
make Xalimoos fall for him even tho, they know
his a wack on qaat crack
he whacks on their jaceel and never looks back
he walks in Galkacyo streets like a cop
drinks his shaax like a boss on top
he drops his cashar like a beat
Boom, Boom
people wonder why he stomps on his feet, like a beast
excited ? repetitive?
maybe??
maybe his wacked-out
maybe his annoying as hell
maybe he never finished middle school
but his a happy man yo
with a baby that looks like you..lol

(قصة ديقو (الجزء الاول

كانت تتمشي في أرصفة حارة "كليرفيو" مثقلة القلب والتفكير..حتى أنها لم تكن تشعر بخطواتها وبقدميها اللذين أعياهما المشي

 الطويل ...احساسها كان ,كعادته هذه الأيام, طائراً مع مخها,  يصول ويجول..حتى تعب أكثر من رجليها!!

  لطالما ...لطالما آمنت واعتقدت ان انتظارها الطويل كل تلك السنين كان سيأتي بثماره,. لطالما..لطالما ربطت تلك الثمار ( التي ما كانت غير حياة سهلة مفرففشة, ومصاري عالبلاش, بعدين جواز اجنبي) بقبولها وطلوع اسمها في قائمة المحظوظين تلك الذين تقبلهم الامم المتحدة كل سنة.

كانت تَدعي ليل نهار بأن تكون من المحظوظين, لعشر سنين لم تُغيّر دعائها ولا حظَها تغير...كان اليأس يباغتها بعض الأحيان..فتفكر بسلك اسرع السبل الى بلاد ما وراء المحيط الى القارة العجوز..ثم تستدرك و  تستذكر ما سُرد عليها من قصص مُهولة مفجعة تقشعر لها الأبدان وتٌشيب الطفل الرضيع , حصلت و تحصل للبنات في أعمارها, ثم تسغقر.. وترجع الى دعائها المعتاد .

.... كانت تشهد أحلى سنوات عمرها تمر أمامها في قطار الوقت اللعين في  انتظار وعد مجهول سقيم.

..وعدٍ استلهمتهُ من دعائها المتواصل حتى أيقنت و آمنت به.

 كانت تعِدٌ نفسها بداية كل سنة أنها ستكون الأخيرة في انتظار القادم المجهول , وفي نهايتها تُجدد البيعة كجندي مأمور اعتاد الانسياق الى الاوامر, رغبتها بالهجرة كانت أقوى من اي ساعة بيولوجية تأبى الوقوف ولو  لثانية, ونفسها الهائمة الضائعة التي  لا نفسية لها   على الدراسة ولا الزواج كانت ضحية الرغبة ولُئم الوقت السخيف 

تعلمت كيف تخدِّر نفسها تلك مرةً بتصوير حُلمها في مخيّلتها على انه اصبح حقيقة, فتعيش في مخيلتها لأيام متواصلات تفقدُ فيهن الاحساس بالواقع.. وتارةً بالثرثرة مع نسوة كانوا يوما مثلها واليوم يبخلون عليها حتى بالاتصال ..واحياناً بمشاهدة الافلام التركية التي لا تزيدها الى اكتئاباَ وعناداً على مصيرها!.لا تلبث أن تعيدها ابإنجراف أقوى الى عالمها المثالي الخاصا لتي صنعته في راسها من طين قناعتها بقدوم الوعد المجهول ....عالم ديقو الصغيرة التي ما عادت صغيرة...

Today..as I walked outside 
A nice breeze hit me in the face
Made me shiver inside a little..
As I hit the sidewalk..
I realized..
This will be my first winter..
Without my hoyoo's face..
Without my hoyoo's warm embrace..
I realized..
I will be coming back to a colder place..
With no hoyoo's cooking, unsii, or cheering praise..
I shivered again..
No hoyoo's cuunto, no unsii place, or warm embrace??
Just lacaag (money) to chase
And dreams with no face
Hoyoo's jaceel is like no other, so glaze
For her care and cuunto never deface
the queen of queens..the lady who taught me how to conquer the world with grace.
Today..I missed my hoyoo macaan
And it wasnt just a phase..

Translation of the previous Arabic poem I wrote earlier today, dedicated to Aylan (the 3 years old Syrian boy who was washed ashore dead may he RIP in heavens Ameen) frown emoticon

How am I?, And everything?
Suffocated, unaware of what’s wrong with me..
Dreaded, feeling like the whole world is against me..
No family, no relatives, no one asks how is me...
Why? When did we reach this state, a state that saddens the friend and enemy..
Grief has become my colour and shades, so sphere..
Sadness effaced my soul, now it’s gone and sear
Sorrow!, raw sorrow cooked in my heart left it all stained and smeared
The pain, and the Ahhhhh, and akhh from the Ahhh where is our Mutanabi,
oh where is the Umaah, where is your brother's pain is your pain?
Did you see what happened to Shaam-el Qooda, and the rural of Aleppo?
Have you seen the horror that happened in the new Fallujah, once called Doma ?
Have you seen the fallen angel washed ashore, once called Aylan just because he was a Syrian ?
When all lands had refused him sough refugee in the high angry seas..
Even the see washed him ashore, told him, even inside it wasn’t safe or secure..
Go to the heavens; go to where injustice never occurs
Go to the heaven, Aylan, where a free pass is insured
No visa’s required there in the skys, No more sorrow, or sadness where mercy over flows
We will tell God how all humans, all believers, fail us in every possible way
Oh am sorry, my bad, you never asked how I was.

*Mutanabi (an Arab poet)
*Shaam Al-Qooda, rural Aleppo: parts of Syria

‪#‎shameonArabrulerers‬ 

كيفني؟ ..وكيف حالي.؟

مخنوق وما بعرف شو بني..

مضايق وحاسس كل الدنيا سكرت في وشي..

لا أهل ولا أحباب..ولا حدا يسأل عني..

ليش هيك؟ ..امتا صرنا على هالحال الي بيزعل القاصي والداني..

الهَم صار عنوان لإلي ولأهلي...

 الحزن ممسوح بوشنا ما عاد قدر يختبي..

الأسى..الأسى انطبخ فقلوبنا حتى استوِي..

الوجع..والآه وآآآآخ من الأه وينو المتنبي..؟!

شفت شو صار بشام الغوطة وريف حلب ؟

سمعت عن فلوجة دوما الي بترعب و ترهب؟

شفتو للملاك الصغير المرتمي ..

بالبحر لما كل أرض الله رفضتو لأنو سوري..

وبتحكيلي عن انسانية وقومية وعربية وشقوقية..

لك تفووووو عليكون وعلى كل حاكم بيدعي وبيصلي....

خليناكم ارضكون والفييز تبعكون والشير الي ما بيغني..

رح نشكي لالله ..رح نحكيلو حالنا هوَ الي هيسمع ويغني..

حتى البحر ما وسعنا..حتى البحر طلَّعنا..وعند الله اخدنا ورمانا ..

حسبنا الله ..هوَ الي بس رح يعطي ويجزي..

صح..انا آآسف انتَ اصلا ما سألتني كيقني.!!

ومثل ما قال المتنبي :

وإذا لم يكن من الموت بد ... فمن العجز أن تكون جبانا

كل ما لم يكن من الصعب في الأن ... فس سهلٌ فيها إذا هو كانا

لك ااااه انا سوري انا سوري أخ يا نيالي..

Sun Light....Our Feathered Promised Hope

Every day, With the sunrise above the eastern horizon comes a Godly promise, a Godly assurance that darkness will always be washed up by light, that smiles will follow tears, that hope will conquer despair, that you’re will is you’re greatest gift of all.

It’s a Godly manifestation that this material world is just but a wheel that’s moving around and it’s up to you to bring out the balance of it, to learn how to mix all its colors to bring out your own shades, the best of you.

Sunrise is a beautiful promise that we are given every morning, which we’re reminded of every 24 hours, a blessing to all of us “except for Vampires of course lol”.

 You see, you ask God (Allah), urgently, all the time”please God send me a hint or a sign, that this is the right choice/ decision am making” disregarding the bright shouting sign that God has been sending you every morning since the beginning of all time, an old sign as old as the universe itself, but so refreshingly full of hope and beauty, a promise of a new day full of unfolding surprises, anticipations, possibilities, opportunities and beginnings.

Every day is a chance to improve you, to live for you, to grow as a whole, to appreciate you, to make decisions that positively impact you, to correct you, to learn from you as well as others. Every day is a chance to redefine you!

You see, hope is a decision!  To choose courage over fears, to choose optimism over gloominess, to come up with new ideas when old ones are fruitless and bereaved is the battle of hope that is born every dawn.

 Fear is the unborn child of the dark night, a state of mind that either traps you or encourages you, while courage is an active decision to move past it, hope is the fuel that ignites courage, so never cease to believe in every sun ray that you live to see. Make it your own flair.

How many of us wake up each morning feeling happy and hopeful, appreciative for having a new fresh day with a healthy body and sound sanity. How many of us thank God for giving us a new chance?  A new beginning that not so many people out there are blessed with. How many of us just lazily or cowardly choose to stay trapped in their fears, and YES I say lazily, because it’s wayyyyyyy easier to stay passive and victimized rather than battle and chase. How many of us turn their dark's into lights, their limitations into opportunities, their fears into optimism.

 How many of us embody a Nick Vujicic????  And yes you should Google him if you don’t know him. :) 

So with the first beam of sun light each and every morning, if you’re a morning person lol, remember to leave your fears from last night behind in your bed, wear hope and walk with it shamelessly. You’ll at the turn out of your day.

.

at the end I would love to share this beautiful quote with you by Emily Dickinson, I HOPE you LIKE it too :)