No contest.

Soul wrenching lyrics. Ma Wardheertaan jeclaa baan, ku wareejin Woyane?! Ma Wardheertaan jeclaa baan, ku wareejin Woyane?! Ma Goodaydan jeclaa baan, gaalka uga tagaayee? Ma Goodaydan jeclaa baan, gaalka uga tagaayee? Qoraxeeydan jeclaa baan, qaran loo ogolaynee? Qoraxeeydan jeclaa baan, qaran loo ogolaynee? Ana goobtan jeclaa baan, nabad loo ogolaynee! Ana goobtan jeclaa baan, nabad loo ogolaynee! Dhagaxbuur taan jeclaa, baan uga dhuuman Tigraye?! Dhagaxbuur taan jeclaa, baan uga dhuuman Tigraye?! Jigjigadaan jeclaa buu...

Panama City

Alpha could you tell us waxay buildings kani kala yihiin. i.e. what purpose will they be used for?

Alpha Blondy;880780 wrote: October 2012 There is hope lol. By the looks of the right hand side of the building, they are going to use cladding that leaves the building looking decent. Lets hope.

Apophis;881173 wrote: ^^No, you got it wrong sxb, Kenya we can trust and be allied with (we need to do this to isolate Ethiopia in the Horn) but we should never trust the snakes aka Ethios. The sea thing with Kenya will be easily sorted. Oo labadu maxay ku kala duwanyihiin? Midba dantiis uun ayuu ilaashanaayaa. Sidad adigu malaysay?

Beer-Gaal;880879 wrote: is that you ? Hello, are you there?

oba hiloowlow;881022 wrote: ninyahow i dont speak german ee maxa ii tiri? Akhas aan dhahaa lolz just kidding seriously waxan ureeso maxa weeye baan dhahaa ama uur badanaa ninyahow uf iyo akhas iyo waxaa naagaha baa ku hadlo i said oldfashioned cultural nonsense. lol @ akhas. On a serious note, to me uff is what you say in relation to something that stinks and to my ears thats acceptable. But to say uff in relation to something that you dislike, does not even make sense (and it is gramatically incorrect unless that specific thing you dislike also happens to stink). Thats my rationale on the subject.

oba hiloowlow;880865 wrote: wtf is wrong with ragga'' Uff'' dhahaayo sidii habraha camal eraygaa ragga ma isticmaalo lool Ouderwetse culturele onzin Oba out of curiosity, what do you say when you smell a foul/stinking/qarmuun smell?

Leezu has been exposed... he himself aint even Somali though. Just a troll whose trolling.

Who is to say that Leezu is actually Somali anyway*... to me he sounds like a masquerading troll..?? Yacni, i've never seen him type in Somali and most of his posts are designed to be provocative and devisive. :confused: * Or Apophis for that matter.

More..

Nairobi

Sleezy, no element of the Somali people are going anywhere, but YOU are by all means free to leave the Somali republic Will a mod lock or better delete this thread that is targetting a specific element of the Somali people and offensive to us all. Mahadsanid. p.s. Obvious troll is obvious.

disclaimer: These are not my videos but just a representation of the places on the ground.,

I will give you the sweet, bitter and sour. The glamorousesque perspective... " frameborder="0" allowfullscreen> And the more realistic nitty gritty perspective...

Surely sheikh Hassan would have had an idea who he was going to pick as his PM when he started campaigning. He doesnt strije me as undecisive but perhaps his choices/choices of PM were not approved of. The other possibility is that he wants to be seen as having consulted the various stakeholders and reached a decision after careful deliberation (rather than say a quickly announced predetermined decision). The delay is probably due to a combination of the two possible reasons ive mentioned.

Ku dayo Puntland, ku dayoo lol. catchy song

Chimera;876523 wrote: These gunmen have masters , and they are first class saboteurs, they need to be hunted down. Yep.

My sincere most apologies to nina-fox and others who wanted to read this thread. Check back in the next few days for updates. This will probably be the most detailed description of what it is like to return home you will have read online in a long time.

CONTINUE - Part 3... As we familiarised ourself with our new surroundings, we were indicated to walk towards a small building, which was the terminal building, to check in. We entered the small building and were met by a dark, dirty little room with metal benches in the left and right-hand corners of the room; to the front end of the room were makeshift plastic cubicles between which you had to pass in order to get a 'visa', have your passport checked and pay a sum of money... a sort of arrivals tax, if you will. This wouldn't be the first isbaaro we came across. The small room, perhaps slightly wider than than five metres, was crowded and chaotic with hurrying of bodies and the echoing shouting of people. These people it appeared, being the kind-hearted volunteers they are, were competing to 'help' the arrivals. Being as exhausted as we were, we took a seat at one of the metal benches and observed the shouting and loud mannerisms of all the Somali people in the room... this would be my first experience in a long long time of an area and place filled entirely with Somali people; for some strange reason I was expecting at every turn to see a white, asian or non-Somali black person. No sooner did we sit down than we were approached by two hurrying individuals, who we were unclear of as to whether they were workers at the airport, who demanded we give them our passports and a specified sum of money, so that they might check us in... after some heckling, being as tired as we were, foolishly perhaps, we caved in and did as they asked. We sat their and rested for a few minutes and wondered who we had just given our money and passports to, and whether they would even return. To our surprise the two individuals re-appeared after a while (15 minutes perhaps), gave us our passports and took us to the area where they said we could collect our bags. As we walked, I was still pleasantly surprised and my guard started to come down as my perception of distrust towards the local people began to wane. We walked through the narrow space between the cubicles and turned right into an even smaller space of about three metres wide and five metres in length where a man was manually pushing luggage and cargo through a hole the size of a 2x2m window in the exterior wall to the right of the room, below which a conveyer belt of metal rollers was positioned. The luggage rolled down the metal rollers and fell into the room, and each passanger had to look through the room to find his/her luggage. There was only one problem: many of the bags, including ours, had been left behind in DJIBOUTI as the 'plane' could not carry all of the passengers as well as the luggage. At this point I was too tired to even be angry and I accepted that that is the way things are done here. We did leave a telephone number at which we could be reached with one of the airport staff who would give us a call as soon as the remaining luggage arrived. We proceeded to exit the airport and a small fight broke out between two of the hurrying bodies at the airport about who would carry our bags to the exit (in return for a small fee), that we could carry/pull our own bags just fine unaided was apparently an overlooked fact that we also were made to accept.. made our way to the parking/driveway of the airport. We said that both the men could take some of the bags and as they calmed we proceeded towards the doors. Outside, it was pitch black, and we were met by a stream of waiting large 4x4 vehicles, the divers of which were all shouting and competing for passengers. One of the drivers jumped at us and forcibly began to take our bags, after fighting off the competition, and put them in the boot and atop of his car. We were exhausted and we needed a car, so without much arguing we got in and we were driven to our destination. Slowly we drove out of the airport parking/driveway and made our journey into the city. As we left the relatively smooth airport road, the 'roads' - even the supposedly 'paved' ones - became less smooth and we were rocked from side to side. As I wound down my window and peered through, everything in my line of vision was dark, dirty, untidy and dazed - was that because I was so tired or because there were no street lamps or pavement or proper paved roads, I don't know. I wil be honest, as we reached the more established parts of the city the culture and underdevelopment shock well and truly began to hit me - I was sitting there with my window half down, an unintentionally dropped jaw and a perplexed and puzzled look on my face. I was overcome and consumed with yaab; what can only be described as shock. Where had I just come? I thought. Where is the city that is spoken of? I thought... surely they didnt mean this chaotic, dirty and underdeveloped oversized slum. yaabka yaabkiis. Here is another admission... naively, I was expecting at any moment to seen gun-wielding gangs of people atop of 4x4 Toyota trucks; or to be stopped and robbed; for the car to crash or hit a person/animal/lorry/hut. I was glad then, that none of those things happened. It appearded that in all this choas and disorganisation, there was some underlying sense of order and common understanding between the locals. Most importantly there was peace and every person went about their own business without hassling the other. There was no road; no pavement; no stop-light; no fancy shops; neatly arranged houses; glass-fronted office buildings; no organisation of pedestrians and vihicles; or any of the other things I had become so accustomed to and taken for granted. Instead I was met by a few awfully paved and uneven roads with the remainder of the 'road network' comprising of dirt-tracks with deep groves caused by rain and flash-floods; a city in darkness because of either the lack of or low power of the 'street lights'; huts and make-shift houses and stalls along the 'roads'; visibly poverty sticken people walking everywhere; dust, sand and mud everywhere; sheep, goats, donkeys and cows wondering the city. All I can say is that it took some time (several weeks) getting used to this new environment. The culture shock was such that after the first 10 minutes of our journey, our windows were quickly wound up; mainly to avoid the dust that would enter via the open windows, the the direct stares of those we drove past and so as not to catch the sight of 'police'/'traffic' workers who, from seeing your face alone know that you are 'qurbojoog' and thus instantly would stop your car and demand money. The car drove no faster than 10-20 KM p/h at most and this was due to both (a) the terrible state of the roads and (b) the animals, people, cars, lorries and huts cris-crossing and blocking the path of what would have been the road. Although our progress was slow, it meant we got a good sight of the surroundings we drove past. Here is another admission... naively, I was expecting at any moment to seen gun-wielding gangs of people atop of 4x4 Toyota trucks; or to be stopped and robbed; for the car to crash or hit a person/animal/lorry/hut. I was glad then, that none of those things happened. It appearded that in all this choas and disorganisation, there was some underlying sense of order and common understanding between the locals. Most importantly there was peace and every person went about their own business without hassling the other. Another thing I noticed was the cool wheather of the city, which was simply mesmorising - there is this permanent light breeze that is very soothing and gives this city an aura of tranquility. It is also a relatively large city that has a unique character of having a 'metropolis' feel to it whilst maintaining a semblance of 'country' comfort. Waking up to the noise and hustle and bustle of Hargeisa and going to bed late at night with the city still roaring, full of energy - in that respect it reminded me of Dubai, the 24/7 city; although infinitely less developed, built-up and organised We reached our hotel and booked in to our rooms. The hotel was semi-well organised but there were still some prominent evidences of disorganisation and low quality, the worst of which being the plumbing. As I lay there on my rockhard bed, waiting to fall asleep despite the very loud noise of the hustle and bustle of the evidently very large and busy city, I was both shocked and exhausted, and wondered what else was masked by the dark that this city had in store for me. To be continued...

Someone tell Somali artists that only T-Pain can get away with constantly using auto-tune in the most obvious way