OG_Girl

Nomads
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  4. Posted

    originally posted by :

     

    3) A nomad you have a feeling is Habar or Oday (old)

     

    kac kac, hibo nuro, nin yaban , (shortly all those culture fanatics)

     

    looooooooooooooooooool girl his name is Qac Qac not kac kac .........still laughing ..........looooooooooool

    lol mizz unique , i thought i already tought u that dance ....lol

    any way holla back if u still need more lessons in MSN ;)

     

    salaam

  8. Posted

    1) A nomad you always read his/her topics and replies

    *flying still (i hate when she writes somali)..lol

    2) A nomad you think is an asset for SOL

    *HornAfrique

    3) A nomad you have a feeling is Habar or Oday (old)

    *Ameenah , libaax sankatabte, jamaal

    4) A nomad you would love to meet

    *mizz unique (my smart girl )

    5) A nomad you are proud to know….

    *OG_Moti

    6) A nomad you think is popular in SOL (in terms of the replies to his/her topics)

    *Darman.

    7) A nomad who has an extremely cool personality

    silent sista.

    8) A nomad who makes you laugh out loud

    *SHAKA ZULU

    9) A nomad whom your like his/her mentality

    * Batuulo .

    10) A nomad you want to whoop his/her ***

    *none

     

    salaam

  12. Posted

    i just typed Mariam and here the some results :

     

    mariam is a fitness model

    mariam is in year five at lergho primary school

    mariam is using the internet to learn english

    mariam is 21 years old

    mariam is just a variant spelling of miryai or mary

    mariam is appalled

    mariam is in kindergarten

    mariam is one of the bright

    mariam is particularly important

    mariam is to appear before the board aug

    mariam is founder of the ethiopian human rights council

    mariam is the wife of massoud rajavi

    mariam is unfortunate enough to become a test target early in the story

    mariam is being widely compared with that of the former dictator of chile

    mariam is working towards her next world championship

    mariam is ready to return to his studies

    mariam is able to access a range of business resources including advice on e

    mariam is not in the front rank

    mariam is there doing a job a long line of priests have been doing for the last 400 years

    mariam is a 5th generation clairvoyant who specializes in these matters

    mariam is arrested for having unwittingly thrown rubbish in a prohibited place

    mariam is a volunteer for the illinois radio reader program and at 107

    mariam is mary

    mariam is on the mba advisory board for notre dame de namur university

    mariam is free to travel

    mariam is well known as a private piano instructor in teheran as well as in los angeles

    mariam is similar to "injil"

    mariam is former secretary general of the ethiopian human rights council

    mariam is

    mariam is also given

    mariam is a 13th century lalibela type rock hewn church located approximately

    mariam is 13

    mariam is the mother superior

    mariam is currently studying for ba at tbilisi state university

    mariam is offering you 15% of the total sum of the funds as compensation for assisting the family in this regard

    mariam is also hoping to do some english study before they leave

    mariam is a founding member of the ethiopian

  19. Posted

    This is a Love stroy that i thought i should share it with you,some one told me and i want to pass ... u know how much i hate long posts but this one worth to read , believe me :

     

    == THE WALLET ==

     

    As I walked home one cold day, I stumbled on a wallet someone had lost

    in the street. I picked it up and looked inside to find some identification so I

    could call the owner. But the wallet contained only three dollars and a crumpled

    letter that looked as if it had been in there for years.

     

    The envelope was worn and the only thing that was legible on it was the return

    address. I started to open the letter, hoping to find some clue. Then I saw the

    dateline--1950. The letter had been written almost sixty years ago.

     

    It was written in a beautiful feminine handwriting on powder blue stationery with

    a little flower in the left-hand corner. It was a "Dear Honey" letter that told the

    recipient, whose name appeared to be Faarah, that the writer could not see him

    any more because her mother forbade it. Even so, she wrote that she would

    always love him.

     

    It was signed, Haleema.

     

    It was a beautiful letter, but there was no way except for the name Faarah, that

    the owner could be identified. Maybe if I called information, the operator could

    find a phone listing for the address on the envelope.

     

    "Operator," I began, "this is an unusual request. I'm trying to find the owner

    of a wallet that I found. Is there anyway you can tell me if there is a phone

    number for an address that was on an envelope in the wallet?"

     

    She suggested I speak with her supervisor, who hesitated for a moment then said,

    "Well, there is a phone listing at that address, but I can't give you the number."

    She said, as a courtesy, she would call that number, explain my story and would

    ask them if they wanted her to connect me. I waited a few minutes and then she

    was back on the line. "I have a party who will speak with you."

     

    I asked the woman on the other end of the line if she knew anyone by the name

    of Haleema. She gasped, "Oh! We bought this house from a family who had a

    daughter named Haleema. But that was 30 years ago!"

     

    "Would you know where that family could be located now?" I asked.

     

    "I remember that Haleema had to place her mother in a nursing home some years

    ago," the woman said. "Maybe if you got in touch with them they might be able

    to track down the daughter."

     

    She gave me the name of the nursing home and I called the number. They told

    me the old lady had passed away some years ago but they did have a phone

    number for where they thought the daughter might be living.

     

    I thanked them and phoned. The woman who answered explained that Haleema

    herself was now living in a nursing home.

     

    This whole thing was $tupid , I thought to myself. Why was I making such a

    big deal over finding the owner of a wallet that had only three dollars and a

    letter that was almost 60 years old?

     

    Nevertheless, I called the nursing home in which Haleema was supposed to

    be living and the man who answered the phone told me, "Yes, Haleema is

    staying with us."

     

    Even though it was already 10 p.m., I asked if I could come by to see her.

     

    "Well," he said hesitatingly, "if you want to take a chance, she might be in

    the day room watching television."

     

    I thanked him and drove over to the nursing home. The night nurse and a

    guard greeted me at the door. We went up to the third floor of the large

    building.

     

    In the day room, the nurse introduced me to Haleema.

     

    She was a sweet, silver-haired old timer with a warm smile and a twinkle

    in her eye.

     

    I told her about finding the wallet and showed her the letter. The second she

    saw the powder blue envelope with that little flower on the left, she took a

    deep breath and said, "Young man, this letter was the last contact I

    ever had with Faarah."

     

    She looked away for a moment deep in thought and then said softly, "I loved

    him very much. But I was only 16 at the time and my mother felt I was too

    young. Oh, he was so handsome. He looked like the King."

     

    "Yes," she continued. "Faarah Jama was a wonderful person. If you should

    find him, tell him I think of him often. And," she hesitated for a moment, almost

    biting her lip, "tell him I still love him. You know," she said smiling as tears

    began to well up in her eyes, "I never did marry. I guess no one ever matched up

    to Faarah...."

     

    I thanked Haleema and said goodbye. I took the elevator to the first floor

    and as I stood by the door, the guard there asked, "Was the old lady able to

    help you?"

     

    I told him she had given me a lead. "At least I have a last name. But I think

    I'll let it go for a while. I spent almost the whole day trying to find the

    owner of this wallet."

     

    I had taken out the wallet, which was a simple brown leather case with red

    lacing on the side. When the guard saw it, he said, "Hey, wait a minute!

     

    That's Mr. Jama's wallet. I'd know it anywhere with that right red

    lacing. He's always losing that wallet. I must have found it in the halls at

    least three times."

     

    "Who's Mr. Jama?" I asked as my hand began to shake.

     

    "He's one of the old timers on the 8th floor. That's Faarah Jama's

    wallet for sure. He must have lost it on one of his walks."

     

    I thanked the guard and quickly ran back to the nurse's office. I told her

    what the guard had said. We went back to the elevator and got on. I prayed

    that Mr. Jama would be up.

     

    On the eighth floor, the floor nurse said, "I think he's still in the day

    room. He likes to read at night. He's a darling old man."

     

    We went to the only room that had any lights on and there was a man reading

    a book. The nurse went over to him and asked if he had lost his wallet.

     

    Mr. Jama looked up with surprise, put his hand in his back pocket and said,

    "Oh, it is missing!"

     

    "This kind gentleman found a wallet and we wondered if it could be yours?"

     

    I handed Mr. Jama the wallet and the second he saw it, he smiled with

    relief and said, "Yes, that's it! It must have dropped out of my pocket this

    afternoon. I want to give you a reward."

     

    "No, thank you," I said. "But I have to tell you something. I read the

    letter in the hope of finding out who owned the wallet."

     

    The smile on his face suddenly disappeared. "You read that letter?"

     

    "Not only did I read it, I think I know where Haleema is."

     

    He suddenly grew pale. "Haleema? You know where she is? How is she? Is she

    still as pretty as she was? Please, please tell me," he begged.

     

    "She's fine...just as pretty as when you knew her." I said softly.

     

    The old man smiled with anticipation and asked, "Could you tell me where she

    is? I want to call her tomorrow." He grabbed my hand and said, "You know

    something, mister, I was so in love with that girl that when that letter came,

    my life literally ended. I never married. I guess I've always loved her."

     

    "Mr. Jama," I said, "Come with me."

     

    We took the elevator down to the third floor. The hallways were darkened and

    only one or two little night-lights lit our way to the day room where Haleema

    was sitting alone watching the television. The nurse walked over to her.

     

    "Haleema," she said softly, pointing to Faarah, who was waiting with me in

    the doorway. "Do you know this man?"

     

    She adjusted her glasses, looked for a moment, but didn't say a word.

     

    Faarahl said softly, almost in a whisper, "Haleema, it's Faarahl. Do you

    remember me?"

     

    She gasped, "Faarahl! I don't believe it! Faarahl! It's you! My Faarah!" He

    walked slowly towards her and they embraced. The nurse and I left with tears

    streaming down our faces.

     

    "See," I said. "See how the Good Lord works! If it's meant to be, it will be."

     

    About three weeks later I got a call at my office from the nursing home.

     

    "Can you break away on Sunday to attend a wedding? Faarah and Haleema are

    going to tie the knot!"

     

    It was a beautiful wedding with all the people at the nursing home dressed

    up to join in the celebration. Haleema wore a light pink dress and looked

    beautiful. Faarahl wore a dark blue suit and stood tall. They made me their

    best man.

     

    The hospital gave them their own room and if you ever wanted to see a

    76-year-old bride and a 79-year-old groom acting like two teenagers, you had

    to see this couple.

     

    A perfect ending for a love affair that had lasted nearly 60 years.

     

    I hope you liked it .

     

    thanx

     

    salaam