^^ The government does not need the headache this will cause. This does not work to the benefit of Mushaaraf and therefore it is unlikely that he was behind the killing. He would have been happy to have her as his Prime Minster. Now this strengthens the position of Nawaz Sharif!

Are they being defeated? Like The Bold and the Beautiful, this is a long running defeat.

Originally posted by Ms DD: Is there no end to your liberalism Mr Ngonge? Kinda odd that you feel offended by his grammer rather than his attack on your faith? His grammar offends me because it proves him to be an imbecile, my dear. I don't make it my habit to protect my faith from being insulted by imbeciles and simpletons. Do you really believe his was forwarding a reasonable argument worthy of a reply? I don't think you do, nay, I know you don't. So why waste your time arguing with someone whom you already know is talking nonsense? Now, if it were some smooth talker who knows how to employ words to belittle the faith I would be worried and would tackle him/her. This KK is not and does not deserve a reply on that front. The only thing he's worthy of is the ridicule of his ability to communicate simple ideas. Ps It's not liberalism my confused sisters. It's common sense. Pps Zakaria's mother, Don't demean the noble concept of jihad by applying it to the situation here. This is far from being a jihad. It's a tantrum at best. You can't protect the faith by harping on about some simpleton aiming to annoy and irritate on a website! You may be able to protect it (though it's debatable) by your measured reaction to such obvious provocations. Or else, what separates you from the madmen that burn buildings and go on the rampage every time a nobody decides to get a rise from sensitive Muslims?

^^ Can she go away with her mates for two weeks then?

Updated:13:44, Thursday December 27, 2007 Pakistan Opposition leader Benazir Bhutto has died after a suicide attack at a political rally. "At 6.16 p.m. she expired," said Wasif Ali Khan, a member of Bhutto's party at Rawalpindi General Hospital. Source

^^^ The only area I oppose this person in is the way he flooded the whole site with the same message and weak arguments. He should not be banned for criticising Islam but he should for being an imbecile that cannot string two sentences together and is upsetting the tranquillity of the forums with his pointless threads. Abtigiis, It should be a free forum and people like KK should be FREE to express their opinions. Less of your dictatorial views, saaxib! However, in the case of this person, he (presumably) should forfeit his freedom to speech the minute he decided to wound and injure the sensibilities of the rest of the forum with his incessant twaddle. Ps How can you protect your faith?

^^ And a Web Cam

Does this hypothetical girl have a computer in her bedroom?

This was a rubbish article.

You can't help but like the man to be honest. However, he did not say anything new there. Was this interview done on MSN?

^^ Any on our side of the pond?

Welcome to SOL. Ps Little bit of advice so that people can understand you, saaxib. Lose the caps and punctuationka eno badi...

^^ You mean this game should have been played in Jakarta?

Originally posted by General Duke: A different image of Mogadishu What's the old man with the brown comaamad saying? Amxara out?

^^ A good article and noble message, alas it is written in the wrong language and directed at the wrong crowd. I believe the tribal tendencies of the Diaspora Somalis to be, at best, superficial and at worst, groundless. For those back home though, I fully understand why they would choose to ally themselves to their respective clans. I don't condemn their choices nor belittle them with any intellectual disdain. They make the only correct (under the circumstances) and logical choices open to them. Look at a place like Laas Canood! The people there (the ones associated with Puntland) consider the situation of the city to be a threat to their homes and livelihoods. They worry that the Somaliland administration aims to oppress and subjugate them. They believe that if they submitted and accepted the jurisdiction of Somaliland over them they will be treated like second-class citizens and will lose all rights free men have! It may be argued that this is simple paranoia and, equally, it may also be argued that this is true. However, none of that matters here. What matters is that the thought have crossed the people's minds and they've realised (as they've known all along) that their only salvation is to seek refuge in the eternal clan shelter. Many despairing voices mumble at the eventual break up of Somalia such actions may lead to, yet, to the layman taking part in such action, this is the most obvious demonstration of unity he/she can imagine! Who is right and who is wrong? Likewise, many in the capital, despite their own faults and part in destroying that city, also stick to the clannish sanctuary and blame Puntland for all the ills of Somalia! Many on this site, if allowed to utter such accusations openly and without censor, would happily regale you with stories of why they believe so and how the clans of Puntland are the source of all evil! Will they be wrong for doing so? I suppose that on the face of it one can say maybe, but if you strip away morality, rationality and logic you'll only be left with FEAR and it is that fear that drives people into their clan's bosom. You believe in your clan but don't use it. The real acid test however is your reaction when you're confronted with that FEAR (which is very unlikely since you don't currently reside in Somalia). Still, to cut a long story short, I don't believe clans or those that follow them are the problem. The real problem is that which forces people to run back to their clans at the first sign of danger. As for the change in SOL; xaaji, pay no attention to our simple quibbles. It is only words to pass the time. Jacalybaro's articles about Somaliland will not be the catalyst for that country to regain its recognition. Nur's endless support for the ICU will not give them power again. Duke's cheerleading for the TFG will not smooth out their problem and Kashafa's angry words will not be read by or give encouragement to the resistance. All this does is remind you of the different voices in Somali society and the positions they take. It is healthy and helps to open your eyes to the crisis at hand, lest you live in dreamland and believe that Somalia is still as beautiful as it was in the seventies or eighties. Chin up, old boy. As the Arab poet once said: ولرب ضائقة يضيق بها الفتى ذرعا وعند الله منها المخرج ضاقت فلما استحكمت حلقاتها فرجت وكنت أظنها لا تفرج (An approximate translation.) Many predicaments make the lad despair When the solution is with god. It stiffened, and when its rings got tighter It suddenly loosened while I thought it never would!

^^ Very modest with his cheap looking macawis.

^^ Yours was a good reply, saaxib. At least you got to throw a bait outthere, lets see who will bite.

^^ I am doing exactly the same thing as you. At least it means I can go for a very long lunch break.

I must admit that raw tribalism as practised by most of the Somalis is alien to me and many of the people who I grew up with. I have never been raised to know what tribe I am from. From our horizon (that of living under colonialism) we were brought up as equal brothers and sisters whose task was to help our society. Every Somali claims to have not been brought up knowing their own tribes! You all act as if this is some sort of badge of honour to distinguish you from the mob! The problem is that there is no proof for your lack of clannish tendencies. Since everyone makes the same claim as you, the chances of anyone believing you (or them for that matter) are very slim. For the double whammy, let me tell you that I too have not grown up in a place where Somalis or their clan divisions were visibly present. But today I know what clan I am from and have an idea what clans most of those around me belong to. I sometimes, depending on my mood and incidents, circumstances or events find myself irrationally bad mouthing one clan or another. Now, if I, with my immense wisdom, better upbringing (I went to nursery at two, did you?) and established disconnection from the motherland can fall into such pits, how in the world do you expect me to believe you don't? You're neither grumpy nor paranoid. Like all other Somalis (including myself, but only to a certain extent) you are C O N F U S E D!

^^ Just you and I here m'lady. All the students and teachers are probably still fast asleep. I was at least expecting Val and Serenity to take time out from their busy jobs and start flooding the site for a day. They must be off too!

^^ The photo fits the description too. Can't you see Cara swooning there? She had to make two replies just so she can revisit the thread and look at Hassan's photo. Cara, this took place in 1910. If you ever have the time you may want to try to get hold of George Orwell's first novel (Burmese Days). In it, he beautifully exposes this Pukka Sahib mind-set and shows how even minor Europeans in charge of small towns in the middle of nowhere, adopted such an attitude and believed themselves to be of consequence, when they evidently were not! Sadly, it was the done thing back then. But lets forget about all of that, I just gave you another chance to reply and steal another glance at Hassan.

^^ Aamiin

Abdi, our head-man, was also a Somali, but of a different tribe. He was from Jubaland and had lived many years with white men. In all save color he was more white than black. He was handsome, good-tempered, efficient, and so kind to his men that sometimes the discipline of the camp suffered because of it. It was Abdi's duty to direct the porters in their work of moving camp, distributing loads, pitching camp, getting wood for the big camp-fires, punishing delinquents and, in fact, to see that the work of the safari was done. One night after we had been most successful in a big lion hunt during the day Abdi came to the mess tent, where we were lingering over a particularly good dinner. Abdi asked for his orders for the following day and then, seeing that we were in a talkative mood, he stopped a while to join in the stories of lion hunting. After a time he told two of his own that he had brought from his boyhood home in Jubaland. They were so remarkable that you don't have to believe them unless you want to. ABDI'S STORY ABOUT HIS UNCLE AND THE LIONS "Once upon a time my uncle, who was a great runner, encountered six man-eating lions sitting in the road. He took his spear and tried to kill them, but they divided, three on each side of the road. So he took to his heels. To the next town it was twelve hours' march, but he ran it in ten hours, the lions in hot pursuit every minute of the time. When he reached the town he jumped over the thorn bush zareba, and the lions, close behind him, jumped over after him and were killed by his spear, one after the other." ABDI'S STORY ABOUT THE WILY SOMALI AND THE LION "Once upon a time there was a Somali who was warned not to go down a certain road on account of the man-eating lions. But he started out, armed with knife and spear. For a week he marched, sleeping in the trees at night and marching during the day. One day he suddenly came upon a big lion sitting in the road. He stopped, sharpening a little stick which he held in his left hand. Then he wrapped his 'tobe' or blanket around his left hand and arm. He then advanced to the lion and when it opened its mouth to bite him he thrust the sharp stick inside, up and down, thus gagging the lion. Then with his two hands he held the lion by its ears for three days. He couldn't let go because the lion would maul him with its heavy paws. He was thus in quite a fix. "Finally another Somali came along and he asked the new-comer to hold the lion while he killed it with his spear. The other Somali consented and seized the lion by the ears. Then the first Somali laughed long and loud and said, 'I've held him three days, now you hold him three days.' Then he strolled down the road and disappeared. For seven days the second Somali held the lion and then by the same subterfuge turned it over to a third Somali. By this time the lion was pretty tired, so after one day the Somali shook the lion hard and then took out his knife and stabbed it to death." ----- Same source as above.

Not my usual kind of thing but I thought some of you may enjoy it. ---------------------------------------- Hassan was my chief gunbearer, and for pious devotion to the Mohammedan faith he was second to none. He was the "Chantecler" of our outfit. Every morning at four o'clock, regardless of the weather, he would crawl out of his tent, drape himself in a white sheet, and cry out his prayers to Mecca. It was his voice that woke the camp, and the immediate answer to his prayers was sometimes quite irreverent, especially from the Wakamba porters, who were accustomed to sit up nearly all night gambling. Hassan was a Somali, strictly honest and faithful. He had the Somali's love of a rupee, and there was no danger or hardship that he would not undergo in the hope of backsheesh. It is the African custom to backsheesh everybody when a lion is killed, so consequently the Somalis were always looking for lions. Perhaps he also prayed for them each morning. When we started we had four Somali gunbearers, each of whom rose at dawn to pray. As we got up in the high altitudes, where the mornings were bitter cold, the number of suppliants dwindled down to one, and Hassan was the sole survivor. No cold or rain or early rising could cool the fierce religious ardor that burned within him. Long before daybreak we would hear his voice raised in a singsong prayer full of strange runs and weird minors. The lions that roared and grunted near the camp would pause in wonder and then steal away as the sound of Hassan's devotions rang out through the chilly, dew-laden dawn. And as if fifteen minutes of morning prayer was not enough to keep him even with his religious obligations, he went through two more long recitals in the afternoon and at night. I sometimes thought that behind his fervent ardor there was a considerable pride in his voice, for he introduced many interesting by-products of harmony that sounded more or less extraneous to both music and prayer. Nevertheless, Hassan was consistent. He never lied, he never stole, and it was part of his personal creed of honor to stand by his master in case of danger. Somali gunbearers are a good deal of a nuisance about a camp, partly because they are the aristocrats of Africa and demand large salaries, but chiefly because they require certain kinds of food that their religion requires them to eat. This is often difficult to secure when far from sources of supplies, and in consequence the equilibrium of camp harmony is sorely disturbed. They are avaricious and money loving to a deplorable degree, but there is one thing that can be said for the Somali. He will never desert in time of danger and will cheerfully sacrifice himself for his master. He has the stamina of a higher type of civilization, and in comparison to him the lately reclaimed savage is not nearly so dependable in a crisis. I sometimes suspected that Hassan was not really a gunbearer, but was merely a "camel man" who was tempted from his flocks by the high pay that African gunbearers receive. Notwithstanding this, he was courageous, faithful, willing, honest, good at skinning, and personally an agreeable companion during the months that we were together. I got to like him and often during our rests after long hours afield we would talk of our travels and adventures. One day we stopped at the edge of the Molo River. A little bridge crossed the stream and I remembered that the equator is supposed to pass directly across the middle of this bridge. It struck me as being quite noteworthy, so I tried to tell Hassan all about it. I was hampered somewhat because he didn't know that the world was round, but after some time I got him to agree to that fact. Then by many illustrations I endeavored to describe the equator and told him it crossed the bridge. He got up and looked, but seemed unconvinced as well as unimpressed. Then I told him that it was an imaginary line that ran around the world right where it was fullest—half way between the north pole and the south pole. He brightened up at this and hastened to tell me that he had heard of the north pole from a man on a French ship. As I persevered in my geographical lecture he gradually became detached from my point of view, and when we finished I was talking equator and he was talking about a friend of his who had once been to Rotterdam. The lecture was a "draw." But I noticed with satisfaction that when we walked across the bridge he looked furtively between each crack as if expecting to see something. It was rather a curious thing, speaking of Hassan, to observe the respect with which the other natives treated his daily religious devotions. He was the only one in camp who prayed—at least openly—and as he knelt and bowed and went through the customary form of a Mohammedan prayer there was never the slightest disposition to make fun of him. In a camp of one hundred white men I feel sure that one of them who prayed aloud three times a day would hardly have escaped a good deal of irreverent ridicule from those about him. The natives in our camp never dreamed of questioning Hassan's right to worship in any way he pleased and the life and activities of the camp flowed along smoothly as if unconscious of the white-robed figure whose voice sang out his praises of Allah. The whole camp seemed to have a deep respect for Hassan. Source

^^ That's another thing Somalis do; they speak for you!