I wish I could be a poet who adorns and worships beauty – pageants from Borama. Praise and admire those pageants with heavenly bodies that are in their puberty stage. Blessed with romantic eyes that are dressed with bushy eyes brows, rosy cheeks, and golden smile.
Those pageants that are born and raised in Borama; the cradle of peace and the nursery of love and romance. That perfect comfort – zone and a promising sanctuary for love and romance in Somaliland. Flirting in words with those pageants from Burao, with the bucktooth, upper front teeth, that are decorated with natural golden dye and dimple on their cheeks with ponytail hair style.
My Burao, the land of the free, the home of the brave. Or chuckle with those beauty queens of Hargeisa, second to non but a Burao pageant. Hargeisa, the factory – farm of music and art; and the factor analysis of literature and drama. Imagine savoring the aroma of a rainy evening in Hargeisa, watching the sky with a rainbow and taking a breath of fresh air. Where the sky is turning from blue to grey, to orange, and yellow at the western rim sun – set. I wish i could be a composer like Ahmed Suleman and Mohamed Omer Huuryo that crafts romantic lyrics and silky verses full of charm, magic and idiomatic, sweet expressions that touches the people’s hearts.
A talented love story maker with a tender heart, who is adapt at tugging the listener’s heart – strings. And will left you teary – eyed, full with love and romance. A love maker like Ahmed Suleiman Bidde, and Mohamed Omer Huuryo. When you listen to their songs prepare yourself for love, and romance. crying once after they scratch your old wounds with their impressive, touching words; and once again to laugh and smile for remembering the past delighted love memories. Compelling you to believe that they have read or stolen your love stories, and love secrets out from your heart. Captivating your heart with unabashed emotion and an unexpected turn, that will put tears into your eyes. Your heart will glow with the sparks of love emotions, and will let you swim through waves and tides of romance that delves deeply into the mysteries of eternal love with subtle depths.
A top – notch sweet expressions and a spine – tingling golden phrases that captivates the hearts of romance fans, and true lovers. A love – carrier lyricist that will induce your mind to visualize imaginative beautiful scenes of fantasy. A fantasy that will entice you to be a captive slave for love and romance. A magnetic – field with twists and turns that pulls love twins together for a good reason. A tragic, and yet spiritual songs that binds lovers together, and will charge your heart with deep, inflammatory emotions of delight or sorrow. All in all, their songs are a trademark for love and romance that will thrust and drag your heart into an ocean of love – paradise, and safe – haven. It is never too late for lovers to listen to their songs.
Because their lyrics and songs are genuine trade mark for love and romance. When you listen to their songs. Prepare yourself to laugh, cry, and fall in love all over heels. Their fans won’t get disappointed or lost the lure, that compelling qualities of a pursuit. When those songs comes from the mouthpiece of Mohamed Ahmed, the legend and the King of the stage; or comes through the golden voice of Sahra Ahmed, our own Um – Kalthum, or by Hibo Nura with the diamond voice, our own Samira Tawfiiq. All in all, Ahmed suleman and Mohamed Omer Huuryo are our own Nicholas Sparks of the Somalis, and congenial to Imra Al Qais of the Arab -World. For sure, will suit the satisfaction of their fans up to the brim over, and sing the last verse at bedtime with a Sigh. Library lovers never go to bed alone. Like the library lovers; the fans of Ahmed Suleiman and Mohamed Omer Huuryo won’t go to bed alone.
I wish I could have lyrics of a poem or song full of irony and sarcasm with a deadly weapon tongue like the deceased Hero, Gariye the great. A fair jury with iron guts that can call a spade, a spade.
An advocate and a spokesman for the silent majority, and a dedicated tireless, clairvoyant, and a volunteer for a positive dramatic change, like professor Gariy. Hargeisa had only two good men, one is dead and the other is unborn yet. Xamara Dagaage, Dalag iyo Hadhuudhkii, Ka damsiiyey Beeraha, Ninka Wadhaf U Deydayey, Ma Ha Duulin Baad Tidhi, Waligaaba Duub duub, Dusha Ubax Ka Saar Saar, Dakhar Waa Halkiisii. Also the deceased Gariye the great said: Dadna Wa Hangoolkii, Nin Marku Dan Leeyahay, Dalmarow La Tabi Jiray.
I wish if I could be a fortune teller and an arm – reader, accurate and sharp in his prediction. A clairvoyant and a sooth – sayer that chats with the stars and interprets the whispering of the wind. A compassionate preacher with humble presence. A play writer and a dramatist with an emblematic, magic metaphor, and flowery language. A Somali Shakespearian and Raage Ugaas of the century, like professor Hadraawe. ( Daalaley ) Marka Hore Dad Baan Ahay, Dad Dad Reebay Baan Ahay, Duji Dhalan Rogtaan Ahay, Hadba Fadal Durkaan Ahay, Nabi Dooran Baan Ahay, Han Dareersan Baan Ahay, Da Dadeed U Talisoo, Ugu Damac Fog Baan Ahay, Noloshaanu Daris Nahay, Dalan Doolka Geediga, Dan Qudhaan U Jeeydaa, Belooy Doorkan Maanta Ah, Adaan Daacad Ku Ahay, Same Waysku Dihinay, Gabadh ii Danbeeyso, ii Doonan Weeyaan,. Ila Akhirkeeda.
I wish if I could be an alarming sensor, and a genuine icon for a revolting nation. A figurative artist with immense imagination that has no boundary. A true Somali philosopher with dynamic magnitude that borrows non, from other culture. A poet, novelist, and historical dramatist, and our own Pushkin ( Aleksander ). The first torch – bearer who had lit the first candle for our uprising like, Abwaan Abdi Qays. ( Adigaaba Goreyeey, Wabigii Ganaane iyo Gal Dur Dur Ah, Dul Joogo Guriga Samaadee, Guunyadii Arligu Mee, Miyey Hali Ka Guuxdaa, Wixii Guul Aroora Miyu Ceelka Gadha, Sarma Go’ Anti mooyeey, Awey Lagama Guraan, Galoolki Iyo Maraagii, So kii Gooyey Kii Hore.
I wish if I could be a traditionalist friendly with nature and the environment. A cherished mentor and an inspiring role model for the Somali culture. A play writer with impressive, and an elegant expressions that captures your imagination. A poet with romantic narrative poem who touches the hearts of so many lovers, like Abwaan Hassan Ganay. Saynlo Gugi Da’ay, Soo Baxa Kaliishii, Seer Seerna Loo Degey, Sanad Geelu Badi Dhalay, Oo Sidigti Laleeys, Nirguhu Aanay Socod Baran, Reeraha Sintood Iyo, Keyma Saar Leh Loo Dhigay, Oo Igadh Mid Yari Sabo, Maqar Lagu Salaaxo, Saabeyshay Gaawa, Oo Baarqab Sohani, Sofeeyey Micidi, Ka Sanqadhi Yey Doobtii, Salaadiina Roob Helay, Nirgihii Ku Saydho, Bal Halku Ku Simay Iyo, Sugayaan Inuu Helo, Subaxdii Barisada, Side Daan Jeleecada, Saxan Saxo, Udgoon Badan, Sanka Kuu La Raacaa.
I wish if I could be a poet labelled as the unknown – soldier who produces a silky prose and verses that heals a poor man’s wounds and reflects his cause. A freelance writer that pinpoints where the shoe is pinching. Dressed up with a fashionable style that is perfect in taste and flavor. A poet with a sharp vision that illustrates his motto of rule and behaviour in a juicy, flowering language like the unknown soldier, Abwaan Ibrahim Gadhle.
Maskax Daadu Yeey Noqon Maqal Lagula Leeyahay, Lagu Furo Masaabiir Iyo Dhoor Mafaatiix, Sida Macawisa Qaar, Ninba Maalin Yuu Xidhan.
Dear reader, a master of all those fatal tools and a trigger in hand. What you expect is nothing, but smash and ash of the spider web and it’s henchmen. For sure I will jump the gun.
Dear reader, writing is neither my hobby nor the means of making my living. But I write for a cause and a reason. I am not associated with any opposition party or group. I always write when I am tortured by some circumstantial – evidence, and being driven by involuntary, natural force. There must be a compelling stimulant that induces me and urges me to write. Not to imagine, but I have to live through the scene, be inspired, and feel the urging – desire. I must be pushed by the pressing mood of writing about that particular subject – matter. Whenever a stupid hired ruffian like Cali Waran Cade, trespasses in to my backyard, and crosses the line. By tickling my throat or poke me in the ribs. Hence my tongue starts to ring and it is showered with silky, and juicy prose, and verses. Pretending my mentor and spiritual leaders like professor Hadraawi. Pure and perfect, like my cherished deceased mentor, Gariye the Great. An exciting narration and a siren rings in my mind, with no a glaring error or a slip of tongue. So that I can attain easily those lofty ideals, and express myself freely. Dauntlessly with boundless metaphor and irony. That is when I milk my cow thoroughly. There must be an appealing demand and motivation to do so. Here then, I would be a rolling stone unwilling to settle. Because I write for a reason and a cause. I am a freelance writer, and a street fighter who enjoys irritating corrupted regimes and a Split – Lip Government. I like to act as a canary in a Coal – Mine. Give me the Hammer, a fly is running on my nose.
From day one on his arrival to the throne, I had discovered the hidden agenda of Mr.Silanyo. When he excluded his first cabinet all the SNM veterans and all close friends that enabled him to lead the steering wheel of our destiny. Seconded, by extending the life – span of our wild – Honey – Bee, called National Assembly. That poor policy of, ” you scratch my back, and I will scratch your back. Wearing his heart on his sleeve. That is the day I named him. ” Musylama Al Kadab”. After that, I wrapped up all my papers, and expectations related to our democracy, Sovereignty, development, economical booming, life expectations for betterment, and all the heart of our matter. And now my hand is placed on my Heart – Strings, and the fate of the nation is trembling on the balance. Because we can’t predict how the weather is going to be like tomorrow, but not expecting that much better from this dark bottle called, Mr.Silanyo. That is why our clergy men in our Mosques with the exception of sheekh Samaale, are reciting verses from the holy Quran as a healing holy grail cup for the old wounds of the past events, and a shield against his secretly conceived, future ill – scheme.
Nowadays,the maverick, unbranded alien, Sheekh Samaale with the mask of a clergy man, and the Ex KGB Agent and a bouncer called Cali Waran Cade are plundering, and trespassing illegally through the cavity of our hearts.
By bribing the mass from their own pocket, from our own treasury. Trying unsuccessfully to disdain and tarnish the reputation and fame of our reputed heroes of the SNM veterans,like the Khulafa Al Rashideen of the SNM called, Madasha.
Those Heroes who had planted the seeds of the fruits that both, is indulging today. Instead of saying thanks. That bogeyman Sheekh Samaale, and Cali Waran Cade, the puppet of Siyad Bare are being ungrateful and degrading the heroic effort of the SNM Veterans. Their sabotage to our heroes are beyond the limit of our tolerance, and withstanding endurance. Mr.Cali, the former KGB Agent of the late Vampire. Please don’t use your feet, use your head. You are paralleling yourself to the SNM veterans. Remember that they are our Bay – Tree used as an emblem of Somaliland victory. It is not your fault, it is the fault of our big brother, Mr.Silanyo who has hired you as a bouncer for his sketchy, Spider Web Palace. It is very disgusting to know that some of the policy makers of the country with high profile are hiring some delinquent teenagers to commit vandalism against the property and lives of innocent citizens of Somaliland. Fools hearts and fools minds are always think the same . Cali Waran Cade, the black sheep of the family is an opportunist man and a bully hungry for power. Trespassing in to our Kitchen – Soup at the back door. Mr.Cali Waran Cade, instead of using live – ammunition of bullets to silence the voices of democracy and raiding the opposition parties meetings. Plus harassing the tax – payers, and the peaceful businessmen and hotel owners. Why can’t you detect those International NGOs who encourages and bribes those poor girls in Hargeisa to claim that they have been raped? Inorder to stain our reputation among the civilized World. Plus that, the outcry of the Shia in the east and the Wahabists in the west; demanding for fair and a just power – sharing and equity – job, can’t be silenced with the gun point, and subordination. Above that, shooting dead like deer , those innocent teenagers who are demonstrating peacefully, will be written in your red account. If you have a healthy conscious; put yourself as a father for those innocent kids. Mr.KGB Agent, remember that tomorrow is another day.
Mr.Silanyo, what you wear in your heart, shows in your face. Let us face the facts, and then you will get at the root of the trouble. Those flatterers around you are cats that lick before, and scratches you at the back. When there is a smoke, for sure there is a fire. As a leader you are supposed to put water, not to kindle the flame. Many leaders like you failed because they lack the vision and the purpose. Never drop the friends you made on the way up. You may need them on the way down. If your new friends like Cali Waran Cade looks as silver, old friends like Mohamed Abdi Iskeerso are gold. A fool man over eighty , is a fool indeed. Stick to your flannels, until they stick to you. But history will prevails and tomorrow is another day. No matter how you change the fashion , a ruffled temper will never be in style. Though feet may slip, never let the tongue. Where force fails, skill and patience will prevail. A danger foreseen, is half avoided.
Mr.Silanyo, the Opera is not over, till one of the two fat ladies sings or weeps. A drown man catches at a straw. Your days are numbered and your Kulmiye Party is a ghost – house full of scary ghosts like Cali Waran Cade.
Mr.Silanyo, you are cute when you are angry.
Yusuf Deyr, ( The Shadow Of Caseer ), Edmonton