HELLO FOLKS
Insha-Allah, I am switching blog, again, to a new one for a new year.
Insha-Allah, from now on, I will be at www.isseh.wordpress.com
PS: I am keeping this blog as it is, and may Insha-Allah, add few posts if deemed necessary.
Thank you all for being frequent visitors of my blog. Your clicks are duly appreciated :).
No two ways about it….
If I had me a gun and some ammo, I’ll would’ve shot the godamned neigbour, whose laughter sounds like a cross-breed between a pig farting and a frog croaking. Godamn it, this annoying man deserves nothing else but to be f!king shot point-blank!
Bloody Somali faraxs!
Part 5: Between Blood and Honour
.[friends, I am sorry for the lengthy idleness. I have not had much to post. However, I managed to write more parts to the story. I just can’t seem to end it. I am approaching 50 pages and nothing…no end. And I am becoming a pedant as a result. ]
.Blood now trickled down two foreheads, in defense of honour. Verbal interaction now turned physical. Moreover, the menace of confrontation displaced the language of reconciliation. Friendship broke down in the face of enmity and vengeance.
.It is with Somali tradition, that a woman’s honour is the pride and bedrock of each family’s reputation. Actions that may be perceived injurious to it, sows the very seeds of mistrust and violent retaliation. To commit a crime of such nature is thus unsurprising if were deemed worse than murder. For a man of honour, nothing inflicts more pain than this crime.
.In most cases, the offense gains the potential to transcend his or his family concern, and become a vendetta between clans. The consequences of which need no over-estimation. Such fatal anticipations, above all things, troubled Diiriye to an extent unimaginable. How they would affect him he did not want to predict.
.The second his consciousness registered the blood gushing from his forehead, a tornado of raw emotions enveloped him with the cold embrace of sorrow. In pain’s place, dread was the only thing felt. The deep cut crossing through his forehead had no pain comparable to the thorns of emotions piercing his delicate heart. He needed stitches, but dread, as stitches follow each other in pattern, lined up to assault his sanity. Doctors and hospitals were now his mortal enemies.
.What if the doctors asked me what had happened, he fretted. They will involve the police, he feared, and that would add another dimension to my dire predicament. His heart drummed in the chest loudly that its beating drowned his hearing. And soon, his strength betrayed to the seduction of gravity. Down he went.
.With the passing of few minutes, he could faintly make out the panicked yells of those gathered above him, yet his brain could not decode a single a word from what they said. All the same, he was lost to the oblivion of his thoughts.
.Even at the slight and gradual recovery of his cognitive faculties, the thought of police involvement assumed a princely position above all other thoughts. It presented itself in different guises of pending danger. The authority’s involvement now seemed more damaging than cultural consequences.
.The police would get involved if they demand the origin of my injury, he reasoned. If it were up to me, denial would become the answers to all their investigative questions. However, that was not going to be the case, because there was another victim of Haajir’s action.
.There was his older friend who was now as furious as hell, swearing on his mother’s grave to make Haajir pay for the injuries. He was adamant to promptly go to the police station and make a statement. And as though not enough troubles weighted on Diiriye’s skinny shoulders, the restaurant’s owner was cataloging grievances of his own. Diiriye was now standing on his two feet. He was not to stand longer than a minute when the owner’s list of grievances began pile up.
.‘Furniture was broken, glasses and cups were smashed, cried the owner.
.‘You must pay now or I will ring the cops’ he threatened, ‘I have lost valuable customers who panicked and fled in the moment of your guys’ madness.
.’They didn’t pay!’ he complained. ‘Pay now, or wash my dishes for two weeks’ he further threatened.
.Again, as he regained his consciousness, the combination of these grievances fueled Diiriye’s state of panic to new highs. Beads of sweat formed, mingling with the trickling blood on his forehead. The pain of his injury, which he was now feeling, veiled his weary eyes with a shawl of dizziness. Hyperventilating and grasping for air, he drifted into a whirling world, and his feet gave way for the second time. The next thing he knew was lying on the ground but awake, with unrecognizable faces starring down at him.
.Although the faces were those of his friends, they all looked like strangers to him. He could only hear their contorted ‘some body call an ambulance’ yells. His friends were greatly worried at his state of being. To them, the two collapses meant only one thing to them; brain damage. They must get him a swift medical help before it was too late.
.On his part, faintly hearing the word ‘ambulance’ compelled him to attempt to speak. He tried very hard to say do not call an ambulance and that he was OK. But his speech sounded like an inaudible mumble to them. ‘No, no’ he mumbled and before he could say another word, his wakefulness waned and denigrated to unconsciousness.
.The following morning when he opened his eyes, nothing made sense. He assumed he must be in a bad dream. He closed his eyes several times and opened them again, to correct the faulty images they beamed to his brain, but again and gain, nothing was correct.
.Where am I, was the thought that came into his mind. He investigated his immediate surroundings, and after several beats, it dawned on him that he was on a hospital bed. Soon afterwards, a nurse appeared and asked:
.‘How are we doing today?’
.‘I am doing good, thank you’ he replied.
.‘Good to hear. Are you feeling any pain?’ she inquired
.‘No, not much pain. Just a little headache’ he said.
.‘Don’t worry darling, the headache will go soon’ she assured him, as she swayed away to leave the room.
.‘Nurse, how long have I been here?’ he shouted after her.
.‘Since last night’ she told him, ‘accompanied by a friend.’
.‘Has there been another man with a head injury admitted?’
.‘Yes, but his injury was a minor one so he got stitched and left’ answered the nurse and left the room eventually.
.Diiriye wanted to know about his older friend’s injury, and if lodged a statement to the police. A statement to the police was the last thing he wanted. He hoped his older friend would be wise enough not to involve the police, who would dig up a lot more dirt that would certainly implicate him.
.As the nurse disappeared in to the hallways of the hospital wards, Diiriye laboured to shift himself of the bed. He swiftly covered his behind as he staggered off the bed. As long as he can remember, he hated anything to do with hospital clothes. He always associated some of them with an outright queerness.
.Why do they (people working in the hospital) subject a man to the indignity of dressing him modestly but uncover his ass? This question accompanied all his thoughts about hospitals. This time, he was glad he still had his own clothes on.
.As soon as he could locate his feet into the shoes beside the bed, he tiptoed cautiously towards the room’s door, slid it open very gently and peered into the hallway. There was no sight of the nurses.
.Thank God, he whispered, and placing his left on the forehead to hide the bandages, he emerged to the hallway. Managing to go unspotted, he quickly arranged his steps in a measured balance of forward motion until he was way out of the hospital’s sliding doors.
.A gladdening spread to every inch of his body and soul. He was at last out free and mobile to sprint he desired so, and if he were to sprint to anywhere, it certainly would be to where he knew his older friend dwelled. Walking was now a leisure he could ill-afford. His only fortune at that moment was that his older friend dwelled not far from where the hospital was.
.Five minutes later the door of his older friend’s house was swung open to welcome him. He was not to remember pleasant greetings or salutations, and the first words exchanged went thus: ‘did you go to the Police, Ahmed?’
.Ahmed, the older friend, was doubly surprised and alarmed. On the one hand, he could not believe Diiriye was fine and walking considering the injuries he had sustained, and on the other hand, the expression of panic on Diiriye’s face alarmed him.
.‘Calm down, calm down my friend’ suggested Ahmed.
.‘Did you go to the police? Please tell me’ begged Diiriye.
Ahmed smiled back slight as he placed his hands on Diiriye’s shoulders and pleaded:
.‘Please sit down. First calm yourself Diiriye’.
.‘I will I! Just answer me; yes or no?’
.‘No! Of course not’ shouted Ahmed.
.Diiriye’s question slightly annoyed him. He believed Diiriye would have known better than to assume he would complicate a problem such as this, instead of remedying it. As far as he was concerned, the group considered regarded him, albeit self-made, the wise and cool head amongst them, whose consul they sought whenever a crisis looms over the horizon.
.‘What do you take me for? I am no fool man!’ he yelled.
.‘I thought you swore to go to the police?’ said Diiriye.
.‘Don’t be such a daft Diiriye’ said Ahmed mockingly.
.‘It was just the moment’s temper, but soon as I calmed down, I decided against it. Now are you happy?’
.On hearing that, Diiriye’s eyes began to well up with tears of relief. At least this was one less major catastrophe to deal with, he told himself. He was already yawning with tiredness. Ahmad studied his face and suggested that he should get some sleep. Another day for all other worries, felt Diiriye as fell into a deep sleep.
Warning: this TV can hear you!
OK. Talk of being lazy of even operating the remote control. Some would call such laziness going over-board with it. But guess what? The lazy amongst us don’t have to worry about criticisms anymore!
There is new TV on the block; it can recognize your clapping! Two claps, three claps…and you get what you want :). Better still you can apparently point your finger at it and click on things on the TV. Awesome, innit? 🙂
FaceBook and Technorati
For those who still searching for social nextworks all over the net to, then brace yourselves face-book phenomenon. I remember using this facility two years ago to link up with former friends at university. Then, it wasn’t as popular as it is today. I remember searching for London Guildhall University/London Met Uni and finding no big groups. Now when I rejoined face book and did the same search, I was surprised to find quite different social network groups that have my former uni in common.
There seem to be a lot more quality in the name Guidhall than the new (almost fake sounding) name Metropolitan. And truly, I am angry about this name change. I went to the university when it was Guidhall only to have it changed to Metropolitan University. Metropolitan sounds like a far cry from the university’s days of being a polytechnic. I was angered by having my ‘Metropolitan’ on my papers that I even contemplated suing the institution.
But enough with my rants against the Uni. For many who are now attending it, its all good. Now back to facebook. I encourage you bloggers/readers to check it out. Who knows you might find long lost friends or even old folks from your old village :).
Another issue is Technorati. I bring this up because I am becoming addicted to it lol. A sad fact, I know but its pretty good. As a certified lazy-fellow, it cuts all the husle to a minimum. Easy and convenient browing. A glorious service for the lazy. Thank you Technorati.
A glimpse of Mlango Papa (Mombasa)
I forget I uploaded this clip on the Youtube when I was still in Mombasa. I recorded it with a FujiS5600 slr camera. The quality was much better before youtube.
The consequences of flirtation
The next morning, Diiriye’s mobile began to buzz. He was still in bed unable to muster the strength to get up. The previous day’s emotional roller-coaster has drained all energy from him. He raised his head from the pillow, glancing at the screen of the buzzing phone, to see the identity of the caller. In the course of last night, every time his phone buzzed, he cautiously studied it to identify who was calling. He guarded himself against the mistake of answering a call from Nimco. What he could not know however, was that Haajir has already snatched away her phone, keeping her in what seemed like a state of virtual house arrest. If anyone else related to her were to call him, he thought, it would be either Haajir or other members of her family. He studied the caller’s number for sometime before he answered it, and after some examination, realized that it was one of his friends.
.’Hello, hello, Musex!’ he said. ‘Sorry I couldn’t answer the phone any sooner mate’ ‘Oh it’s alright mate’ replied Musex, joking ‘I thought you were having a shag or sum’ing.’
.They both laughed. I hope that was the case, he wished.
‘Ah, you and your sex-crazed mind Musex.’
.As things stood, it seemed like the prospect of shagging a woman looked most bleak. To a good measure, the only woman he had hopped to win over, marry and ‘make love’ to, was the last person in the world who would want to see him now. He cursed Nimco for being such a bad omen. How could she delude herself that much? How could she think I would want her around even foe a single day? To believe I harboured feelings for her shows how deluded she is. That much delusion he suspected of her.
.‘I was simply in bed mate,’ he said, while scratching his uncombed head. ‘My bed may never feel the embrace of fairy one’ he went on to lament.
.Musex, whose real name is Mustafa, has gained quite a reputation for constantly talking about women and sex. And aware of this reputation, Diiriye always joked to Musex that he’ll will never see the fair skin of a naked woman, let alone sleep with her. However, at this moment in time, Diiriye strongly believed that even Musex stood a better chance with women than he.
.Musex, instead of continuing with his usual subject of conversation, somehow sensed from Diiriye’s voice and comment that he must be feeling a little down today.
.‘Mate, don’t curse your bed with such pessimism. Of course, it would sooner happen. You are our guru in the department of woman seduction, remember?’ said Musex.
.He hoped such a comment would encourage Diiriye to assume his usual confident self. But it didn’t seem to work.
.‘Hear, hear!’ cheered Diiriye faintly. ‘Is there something you are not telling you Diiriye?’ ‘No, mate, its nothing bro’ ‘Alright friend, if you say so’ said Musex unconvinced.
.Fearing that Musex would eventually uncover the truth about his uneasiness, Diiriye wanted to change the subject. He is by nature secretive about sharing his private affairs with anyone. Since his childhood, he has kept everything to himself. Even when he was suffering under a painful psychological difficulty, he managed to bottle it up. The only time he has shared his person affairs or love interests with someone, was when he poured his heart out to Haajir. The consequences of that were now too painful to make a similar mistake.
.‘Musex, I am surprised that you called! You never do!’ wondered Diiriye.
.Musex laughed and tried dispute Diiriye’s observation but realized that it was true. He was never good at communication.
.‘Yeah, you are right mate’ he admitted.‘But actually, the reason I called you was that, our friend, Haajir, is organizing the guys’ get-together and he has asked me to invite you to it.’
.The mention of Haajir’s name sent a chill down Diiriye’s spine. He fell into silence thinking, poor Musex, he did not know he was inviting to my own potential death.Diiriye did not know what to say, or how to react to the get-together’s invitation. The invitation, for him, was equivalent to a double-edged sword.
.On the one hand, were he to turn it down, he may miss an important chance. A chance to explain to Haajir, in the presence of friends, that he might have wrongly misconstrued the awkward situation he witnessed in Nimco’s house.
.On the other hand, were he to accept it, he was afraid, despite the presence of friends, Haajir might create a scene. Moreover in the back of his head, he feared the invitation to the get-together might be the machination of Haajir, in consort with Nimco’s brothers, to put him in a position to harm him.
.After what might have been several minutes of silence and attention seeking yells from Musex, he began talking again.
.‘Musex! I hear you, I hear you, mate. Take it easy bro. But just listen to me, you hear?’ he requested. ‘Alright! Alight, man!’ replied Musex. Demanding ‘but don’t turn a deaf on me again man.’ Diiriye agreed to this demand and began explaining ‘Musex, there is something I have to tell you bro, before I accept or reject the invitation to the get-together….’
.He carried on revealing what had happened long enough to make Musex calling credits run out, but had to call him back to finish his revelations. When he finished explaining, the only comment came back from Musex ‘holy cow, man you sure are in deep shit!’
.‘Yeah man, I know. I am in deep shit, but how can I really need solve this ticking time-bomb?’
.Musex, the quick-thinker that he is, came out with a plan of action. The plan was that Diiriye would accept the invitation but there contingency plan incase Haajir decides to make a scene.
.First, before Diiriye could to at the get-together, Musex would persuade a well-respected and wise older friend to join them at the meeting venue.
.Second, soon after the older friend arrives, two of the other friends would accompany Diiriye to the venue, and they arrived, would sit on both sides of Diiriye. Musex himself would sit next to Haajir so as to constrain were he to lash out at Diiriye.
.The older friend, informed of the sensitive situation was to talk some sense into Haajir, and accept to forgive Diiriye. Thus, after the phone conversation has ended, Musex set out to make the plan operational, and has succeeded in making it work.
.Around the table sat all the invited friends, who were chit-chatting amongst themselves. Diiriye made some attempts to join the chit-chats but was failing terribly. However, that did not stop him from pretending to engage with his chitchatting friends.
.What made him less comfortable even more was the restaurant’s ambiance. A loud Arabic music blasted and spread across from two speakers, positioned right above the table the group sat. He wished the waiter would turn the volume down and told so him so twice. Yet, the volume remained as loud as it was he first entered the restaurant. At least in this serious moment deserved a reverent silence, he thought.
.Occasionally, he stole glances at Haajir who was quiet and looking very serious. He would have given anything to know what was going through Haajir’s mind at that moment, because his serious silence was highly worrisome.
.All the while, their older friend was studying the body language of both Haajir and Diiriye. Realizing that both of them were growing ever more uneasy, he picked up an empty glass of water before, tapping it on the table to summon the group’s attention.
.With the attention of the group gained, before he began to address them, raw anger seemed to taking hold of Haajir’s resolute face. This could not be good, Diiriye feared.
.True to his thought, it was going to be good for him. Haajir came across as though he wanted to take advantage of the groups’ silence and attention.
.‘You bastard,’ he shouted loudly. ‘I fucking trusted you and took you into the house to him you. What did I get from you for gratitude? A fucking backstabbing, how could you?’ while at the same time hurling the heavy cup in his hand, hitting Diiriye squarely on the forehead.
.Everyone jumped. Some ducking as the flying cup flew past them to its intended destination. The friend sitting near Diiriye, in the chaos of the moment, violently fell off his chair, landing on the restaurant’s maple floor.
.The group’s un-choreographed and impulsive reaction sent out a confused commotion across the restaurant. This alarmed the staff who ran flying towards the group’s table. Within a few heartbeats, blood started streaming from Diiriye forehead. The old friend, sustaining a broken skin on his cheek from his impact on the floor, also was bleeding. The rest had no injuries, but the shock the moment has produced still lingered on their faces.
.They all looked greatly shocked Haajir’s act.Who would have thought this would happen. After all they were there to do their best to avert such a thing happening. Their shock turned to wonder and dread.
A really bad day (and possibly night)
Today was one of those days I always dreaded to live through. Excuse my French, but I had a f!ed-up morning all the way to the afternoon. An old friend of mine (pain that is) decided to pay me a visit early this morning as I woke up. Its a pain I haven’t experienced since my early teenage years, which, as usual, scares the hell out of me. The pain was like having a spear piercing right through my chest – so painful that I thought the dreaded day has come. At last death was knocking on the door. But the only comfort I had was that it was the Ramadan month. Well that is me; always looking at the brighter side of things :).
I hope you guys had a better day.
The Things I Said 