^^^ Eid Mubarak to you too, saaxib. Tolstoy, In his book, A Tale of Two Cities, Charles Dickens starts with the following paragraph: It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way--in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only. Now, whilst Mr Dickens was talking about the French Revolution there, I’m sure reading those words, in your opinion at least, would also ring true when applied to the case of Somaliland. The best of times? The worst of times? The age of wisdom? Enough to give you Goose bumps, saaxib. Still, don’t read too much into the story. It was not a critique of anything. The hope was that, you would suspend belief for a bit and warm to the old man in the story. The practise of sending audiocassettes to relatives abroad is a dying tradition. I personally came across it only briefly in my childhood and found it highly amusing. Everyone was a newsreader! A sixty-minute tape was like a regular radio show. It gave you the latest news (at the moment of going to press of course), it told you of the weather and it gave opinions on various national and international events. In the days before satellite TV, landlines and mobile phones, these tapes reigned supreme. I have not personally experienced it and I have not verified this idea yet, but I would imagine that when a migrant son sent such a tape home, the whole village would sit down to listen to his tape and hear all about the far away world he lived in. I can just imagine them all wanting to tape their greetings in the reply. The innocence, bless and gullibility of those making these tapes is not fake or phoney in any way. The fact they don’t realise how they come across and would, in their everyday lives, go about their business all thinking they’re the best of the best (which indeed they are) is quite endearing. This story, though having strong Somali whiff, could easily be about Iraq or Afghanistan (which is why I chose not to use any Somali terms or expressions).

Heh. Saaxib, I’m not playing devil’s advocate at all here. I’m stating facts. The person above used the word ‘legal’ and I merely explained the legality of the state of Israel according to international law. I fear you’re being slightly cheeky by bringing up the issue of a Palestinian state and attempting to link it to the legality of Israel (at least, in the way I explained it above). It would have been better if you asked me if I thought of Israel as a legitimate and sovereign state. Still, we might as well talk about Palestine and why there is (as yet) no Palestinian state. The one main and major reason is because the PLO has not declared such an entity yet. The late Yassir Arafat threatened to do so a few times but always held back. The current leaders of the PLO have been muttering about declaring one but daren’t do so without the permission of the world powers and the tacit approval of Israel. Legally of course (International law again), they’re allowed to create their very own independent and sovereign Palestinian state. However, in practical terms, such a state will merely be a phantom state with not enough land to govern and no control over its air and waterways. The Palestinians, have no choice but to carry on negotiating with Israel until they’re given enough land and control over that land to declare their nation as born again. It’s what Yassir Arafat realised after years of fight and resistance. It’s why he called it the peace of the courageous when he (mistakenly IMHO) signed the Oslo peace accord. I’m very pessimistic about a Palestinian state (a fully functioning one) being declared anytime soon. Ariel Sharon has never been a man of peace and has never approved of Arabs in ‘Jewish’ lands (including his very own citizens). Should Sharon be ousted from power in the Likud party, his most likely successor (Bibi Netanyahu) is not expected to be a softer touch or better alternative for the Palestinians! As for Hizb-u-Allah, I’m not sure where you get your information from, saaxib! Are these facts or opinions? As far as I’m aware, that group declared its willingness to lay down its arms and stop bombing Israel as soon as that state demonstrated that it does not want to invade Lebanon (again) by withdrawing from the Lebanese part of the Golan Heights (as things stand, officially, this is the deal. Behind closed doors though, we all want rid of Israel and Israel wants rid of us, I guess). Resolution 1559 demands that it does and I fear that, sooner or later, it will. Again, I am not playing devil’s advocate here. One has to clarify what is a serious discussion based on facts and one based on emotions or conventional (Arab/Muslim) wisdom.

^^^^ The superpowers (and most of the West) recognised Israel as a legal entity the minute the state of Israel was declared in 1948. So, at least from that angle, Israel is a legal state. The PLO (the body that represents Palestinians) recognised Israel as a legal and sovereign state when signing the Oslo agreement in 1993 (or was it 94?). Egypt full recognised Israel in the Camp David agreement of the early 80s. Jordan recognised Israel in 1994 (I think). Many of the remaining Arab (and Muslim) countries are willing to recognise the state of Israel as soon as the issue of occupied lands is resolved (the occupied lands are only those that were taken after the 67 war. Anything before that is widely accepted now to be part of Israel proper). Syria has a territorial dispute with Israel and would jump at the chance of resolving it (favourably of course). Lebanon has bad history with Israel and is too weak (for now) to go against the wishes of the Hezb-u-allah movement in the South. A movement that vows to carry on bombing Israel until the last bit of occupied Lebanese lands is given back (Israel claims that disputed land is Syrian and not Lebanese and insists that it will only negotiate with Syria there). So, as you can see, Israel (at least in political terms and in the view of international law) is a legal state. Still, it was amusing to watch the Iranian leader ruffle a few feathers (especially when one takes into consideration the racket being made about Iran’s nuclear ambitions).

Is this thing working? Are you sure it’s working? He said the last cassette we sent him was not clear enough and he did not hear much of what we were saying. Please make sure it’s working ok. Is it working now? Shall I talk? What, now? Hallo, hallo, hallo! Son, I’m sending you this tape with the hope that you’re in the best of health and spirits. We are all well here and we send you greetings that we wring from the deepest void of our hearts. A void we developed the day you left us. Son, we send you our good wishes with the flying clouds, the migrating birds and the blowing wind. Everyone here is doing fine. The people of the town are all as you left them. We have no complaints whatsoever and we daily thank almighty god for making our lives an easy one and reducing our burden. Life is all about being content, my son, and we are content and happy with god’s will. Son, we received the money you sent us last month and it helped us greatly in sorting out the sanitary problems we had. The rest of the money we used to purchase more animals. You see, our donkey, that faithful companion of your youth, has died, son. Don’t shed a tear for him though. The brute lived a good and long life and fulfilled all the ambitions or target any average donkey would have wanted to fulfil. Eight of our goats have developed diarrhoea and we had to slaughter them all and give their meat to the needy. The needy also developed diarrhoea (which I believe is unrelated to our goats) and the authorities are talking about persecuting me. Don’t worry though, son. Remember your cousin Ali? Well, he’s here on holiday. He works in London as an interpreter in a law firm and has, in his eight years of working there, learnt a great deal about law. He assures me that I’ve done nothing wrong and has promised to prolong his holiday until my court case (if ever it reaches such a drastic end) is over. He even volunteered to act as my legal representative, solicitor and QC. He keeps repeating the words Habeas corpus and says that all this stuff is really not cricket. I have no idea what any of it means but your aunt Nadia, his mother, assures me that he knows what he’s talking about. Your brother ran off with the maid. He resented being the youngest one in the family and having to do all the petty jobs, because he’s the youngest. He, along with the scheming maid, who in turn resented being a maid, came upon a genius idea. They decided to get married! As a married man, he reasoned, that nobody would look down on him as a youngster or expect him to fetch the hand-wash and towels after food (unless of course it’s a dinner in his house and there are no young people amongst the dinner party). His (future) wife, the wretched maid, also reasoned that as a married woman, none of the youngsters of the family would try to take advantage of her or the girls will look down on her as a mere maid. The last we knew of them, they were walking the seventy miles to the capital. I wouldn’t panic if I were you though; no sane judge, mullah or old man is going to marry off a fourteen-year-old girl to an eight-year-old boy. Your mother wants a divorce, again! She still claims that I have not looked after her as I promised and that I lied to her as a fifteen-year-old girl when I told her that, in ten years’ time, we would be millionaires! As you are well aware, I always tried to explain to her that man makes the best plans but providence smashes right through them. As you’re also aware, I usually manage to eventually convince her of my love and devotion. However, this time, none of my remonstrances are working. This, if you may allow me to hazard a guess, is due to two reasons. First of all, your grandmother is back and is slithering about the place and hissing all sorts of nonsense in your mother’s ears. As a result, your mother has recently taken to reminding me of her lineage and her ancestors’ good name! Your grandmother promises to find your fifty-year-old mother a suitable match if she would only divorce me! The second reason for your mother’s change of heart and coldness towards me is Omer. Settle down, son. I’m not accusing your mother of adultery. But I believe that she has the hots for young Omer. Oh! I beg your pardon, Son. Omer is the young man I employed to help me with work. He’s young, good looking and from the same tribe as your mother. He also has a way with the ladies. The girls in the neighbourhood all make all sorts of excuses to come and see Omer. Our shop is now always full of girls and our house too. Well, our house used to be full of girls but your mother drove them all away. With no maid in the house anymore, your mother has to make all the food and clean the house. She spares the best food for Omer and spends hours cleaning his room (yes, he moved in into your old room. Your mother insisted he move in!). Your sister Fatema has tamed her husband. Yes, I was surprised too. Remember when she used to come home with black and blue eyes? Remember how every time we offered to go round and ‘fix him’ she would protest, cry and plead with us? She was in love with him back then and said that his karbaash (whip) was an expression of his love for her and that we should stay out of their business. Well, your sister grew up, son. Her beloved husband, in a fit of anger, destroyed all her China Cups. Remember the China Cups you sent her from America (she tells people you sent them from China)? Well, her silly husband broke them all because he was not happy about his breakfast being late. Your sister, as you well know, loves her husband dearly. But, she was also proud of the fact that she was the only woman who owned China Cups in the whole city (and three other neighbouring cities, I’m told). With one silly motion of his hands, her unthinking husband smashed her lofty position in town (and the three neighbouring towns) to the ground. With one motion of her hand (and a few of her feet, nails and teeth) she smashed his face in. I wouldn’t say that your brother-in-law is drinking out of a straw now, but he sure is not drinking from China Cups. Did you hear about our parliamentary elections, son? You must have. The newspapers here say that the eyes of the world were on us. Everyone who is everyone made sure that they voted in these elections. To start with, many of us wanted to vote because the politicians told us that it was good for the country and us. We all want what is good for the country. One politician told us that if we all voted, the Arabs might remove their ban on our livestocks. He said they only banned them because we did not vote in previous elections! That was before I slaughtered my eight sick goats. I really wanted to sell them to the Arabs but when the politician said the ban will not be lifted until after the elections, I had no choice but to slaughter them, son. Many people voted for their cousins, relatives or those that promised the biggest windfalls. I waited for your instructions on who to vote for but received none, so, I had to gamble and vote for the tallest candidate. If we’re going to have a farsighted winner, it’s most likely that he’ll be the tallest in the party. This election was a farce, son. Two days before the main day, a vicious rumour has spread about town that not many people can read or write! Of course, as you can imagine, in a proud town as ours such a rumour is not tolerated. People started going round and wanting to know who can and who can’t write. There were no volunteers willing to stand up and prove that they can indeed write or demonstrate their ignorance by showing that they can’t write. Every person that was approached got angry and remonstrated about being singled out or muttered darkly about tribal conspiracies. We finally all agreed upon a cunning plan and amazing solution to prove that we all can read and write. Some bright spark has suggested that we all take part in the parliamentary elections and vote for our preferred candidate! Everybody was happy with this ingenious compromise and we all argued that nobody was obtuse enough to derail the wheels of democracy and disrespecting the will of the people by voting in an election when he/she could not read or write. Besides, we all knew how easy it was to read and write an election slip. All one has to do is read the instructions, look at the photos of the various candidates, stick a finger in the ink and stamp the finger next to the chosen candidate’s photograph. For one to prove that one can read, all one has to do is come out with one’s stained finger held aloft. We heard in the radio that the level of literacy in our town is 88%! Everyone in town disputes that figure. We all voted in the election and everyone had those blue stains for weeks. We finally agreed that the 88% figure includes all our sons and daughters that have moved away (like you). I also, secretly, knew it includes your silly brother and the wretched maid. Son, the tape is running out and I still have not said all I need to say. Besides, I have a treat for you this time. Remember our local singer? You used to love his songs and look up to him when you were a kid. Well, I invited him to lunch today (along with his band). They’re now sitting here having eaten and had their drinks and are ready to sing you a song. This is a 60 minutes cassette, so it might end any minute now and you might not be able to hear the entire song. Before I let the band play, I have a favour to ask, son. Will it be at all possible to send us more money this month? The monthly allowance you send us is usually adequate enough for all our needs. But, what with the need to employ a new maid, sack Omer and hire an assassin to sort out your grandmother I had to spend all of the allowance earlier than is usual. Your sister has been depressed and is begging you to send her new China Cups. Take care my dear son. Until we speak again, enjoy the music. Take it away boys.

^^^ Exactly Having won my last three games, my team are the ones with the form, momentums and luck. We aim to sweep all before us, even armed soldiers. You’ve been given the head start you wanted, now it’s time to watch us PLAY. :cool:

^^^ Great post.

Updated: 20:01, Tuesday October 25, 2005 The Sky Report has secretly filmed one of America's most controversial Christian ministers praising the London bombings. Fred Phelps says that terrorist outrages and natural disasters such as Hurricane Rita are examples of God's wrath against countries such as America and Britain for tolerating homosexuals and homosexuality. Fred Phelps, who set up the controversial Westboro Baptist Church in Topeka, Kansas, told our undercover reporter about the attacks, which killed 52 people: "Oh I am so thankful that happened. My only regret is that they didn't kill about million of them. England deserves that kind of punishment, as does this country (America)". The church, which has 150 followers, recently started picketing funerals including those of American soldiers killed in Iraq, waving banners such as "Thank God 9/11", "God Hates Fags" and "Aids Cures Fags". The Sky Report investigation includes secret filming inside the church's fortified compound during a weekly service in which Fred Phelps also denounced the Roman Catholic Church as the "biggest paedophile organisation in the history of the world". Phelps made news just last month when the Daily Telegraph reported that the Swedish royal family were consulting lawyers after discovering that he had made outrageous claims about their sexuality on the internet. Several members of the Westboro Baptist Church congregation were planning to visit Sweden - placards in hand - ready to spread their message that Sweden is, "a land of sodomy, bestiality and incest''. Source

^^^^ Does this Togane person chew the green stuff? I can never tell if the humour and satire is intentional or not.

Ain Shams at number 100? :eek: HELWAN UNIVERSITY at 87? Both these, in their time, were centres of excellence in the Arab world. Wonder what happened to put them down that far in the list! It’s also quiet amazing that the University of Mogadishu would outdo many other African Universities when one considers the criteria being used to decide the rankings! Very impressive indeed! The Methodologies Adopted in the Ranking of World Universities: 1. Universities' research out. 2. Quality of graduates and the stages of their knowledge. 3. Facilities provided by the universities in their fields of work. 4. Their contributions to the modern knowledge. 5. The extent of their technological access. 6. The presence of the universities on the World Wide Web and their use of the Information Technology. 7. Studies and materials published on their sites as well as the number of in-link visits. 8. The performance and clarity of their messages as institution on the web. Source

El Bizarro, Excuse what might seem like a silly question, but I’ve always wondered how guys like you are funded? Say I wanted to ditch the wife, kids and borrowed cat (the neighbours don’t mind). How would I go about moving to Peru and helping the mountain kids cultivate delicious coffee beans? Would I have to foot the bill to start with and then hitch a ride with some charity once I’m there? I really don’t want to ditch the wife or kids and certainly not the cat. Besides, African sand, when it gets under your nails, is really hard to get rid off. I would still like to know the way these things work though. On this site at least, I’ve had enough of pretty pictures of Somalia and would like to see pretty descriptions of the things that go on there. Care to oblige? Don’t worry about Dances with Wolves; I am, you’ll be glad to hear, in position of some secret soviet weapons that have proven very effective in silencing him in the past.

Ma kaan baa?

Ignoring all the rhetoric and empty flag waving; when it comes to actual politics and choosing the safest strategy, Puntland comes out on top. They’re part of the Federal government yet are also very autonomous. They’ve chosen the halfway house of hedging their bets, and one has to admit that this is the safest possible option. If (I can hear Tolstoy & co already replacing that word with WHEN) Somaliland gets recognition, Puntland can dive in quickly and demand the same treatment. If on the other hand the problems of Somalia proper are solved, Puntland can also jump in and make the most of the early day funds that will pour into a peaceful and functioning federal government. This is not because the president is from that region (though that surely is a bonus) it will have more to do with the relatively advanced and organised condition of Puntland as opposed to the disorganisation of the southern regions. At any rate, it’s a win/win situation. I have no idea why any sane Puntlander would even dream of asking for independence now! Yours Mr Obvious.

Look! A naked baby!

Lets gaily skip over the details or authenticity of the survey for a minute (I got it from the BBC site). The article throws up two discussions: the issue of Honour Killing and the case for Turkish membership in the EU. Honour killing is a custom that is prevalent in many ‘third world’ countries (mostly Muslim ones). Other than macho muscle flexing on online forums, are there any other instances of honour killing (or the support of) in Somali society? I’ve heard of a few petulant boys (more often than not they happen to be boys) sharpening their knives and vowing to kill their own sisters (and their husbands) for running away and getting married in such and such town. But I’ve never heard of such threats actually being carried out. Does such a tradition exist in Somali society? What are the rules? On the issue of Turkish membership of the European Union, do you think it’s a good thing? Does it help that they’re instituting laws to tackle age-old problems such as honour killing, human right abuses and the death penalty (the secular type)? Will membership of the EU and the adoption of clear and unambiguous democratic practises work in the favour of Islamist political parties in Turkey? Surely the GREAT European Union will not allow what happened the last time a Muslim party won the majority of the vote to happen again! In fact, would the inclusion of Turkey mean the final dismemberment and exposure of the EU? Your reasonable comments and opinion are eagerly awaited.

^^^^

^^^ When I posted the first story there was no intention to provoke or anger anyone, saaxib. It's a lovely story about a woman desperately in love. I’ve met a few of those in my time (not necessarily in love with me) and saw how weak and vulnerable such women are. Their love is irrational (some would argue that all forms of love are irrational). Their infatuation unhealthy and reason weak. They would do virtually anything to please the man (woman) they love. Ever hear of a bunny-boiler? I hoped that, in addition to the author’s great writing style, would be the crux of this discussion. Only after I started the thread did I realise that some fickle souls might take offence to the language used (i.e. the god references). All subsequent replies were ones of mockery and the eliciting of wild responses. PS Here, it’s time to post my customary disclaimer and say that when I mock I don’t mock the faith but the actions of the online ‘faithful’.

^^^ Here is one Talking of God, here is a story that has been doing the rounds on news sources lately. It’s safe to say that such a case would be (for us Muslims at least) the epitome of non-believing. The faith that this person (and Dorothy) follow is the same. The contract they (think) have with god is unlike ours,we fully submit (don‘t I excel at stating the obvious these days, give me a sticker, miss). Still, I wonder if you can see the humour in his mad action! Lunatic sues God A Romanian murderer has launched a legal action against God: on the basis that God, in breach of contract, failed to protect him from the Devil. The man, known mysteriously as Pavel M, also filed the following allegation of criminal acts by God at the Timisoara Court of Justice: I, the undersigned Pavel M, currently jailed at Timisoara Penitentiary serving a 20 year sentence for murder, request legal action against God, resident in Heaven, and represented here by the Romanian Orthodox Church, for committing the following crimes: cheating, concealment, abuse against people's interest, taking bribe and traffic of influence. Pavel claims that his baptism amounted to a contract with God. He even has an answer to the tricky question of consideration; apparently the Almighty "received from me various goods and prayers in exchange for forgiveness". Prosecutors said that the case was likely to be dropped due to the difficulties in serving a subpoena on God. Source Source

^^^ Did you hear about the riots in Birmingham? There was a rumour that a Pakistani hairdresser raped a 14-year-old girl. The Jamaican community was up in arms and the rumour spread like forest fire. So far, one man is dead. A policeman was shot, businesses were torched and hundreds of people were injured. Nobody knows where the phantom rape victim is (the accused denies any wrong doing). A sad story all round (especially if the rape were real). Nonetheless, that story brought a smile to my face as I was reading my morning paper on the train this morning. Retribution is a funny word.

Originally posted by Roob da'aayo: SUBXANAALAAH WATACAALA CAMMA YUSHRIKUUN Wax kale oo aad soo qortid miyaa wayday intaad qof jaahil ka ah EEBBE wuxu yiri noo keenaysid? Waxaa dhici karta inay Dorothy weligeed waxaas afkeeda ka soo bixi lahayn haday oogaan laheyd culeyskooda? Laakiin adigoo og maxaa sidaan u sameyneysa? Wax yaalaha qaarkood qosol iyo kajin ma galaan. Miyaanan ixtiraam kaa mudneyn? [/QB] After three months of arguing and debating on Islamic issues, I’ve finally decided that (for the most part) it is pointless to bite every time some nonentity dangled his/her bait in my face. My views on duplicity, ignorance and the unwavering belief that if one wears Islamic garb or sprinkles his/her discourse with Islamic expressions, one will be on a direct path to Janna, are not a secret anymore. I don’t think much of online acts of piety and righteousness. Still, I’ve learned, with difficulty (might I add), to accept that like a child dressing up as a doctor or fireman, some people feel happy and comfortable if they donned the dress of righteousness. I wouldn’t disappoint a child by telling him/her that their little games are ridiculous and, I should not taunt our online supermen and wonder-women by telling them their little dress-ups are nothing but vacant and virtual illusions. On issues that I think are worth debating, I would still debate and shall not (insha allah) be hindered by the fact that those I’m debating with are of an inferior cerebral ability and weaker disposition. It is to the reading spectators that I play. If nothing else, I’ll at least squeeze out all manner of information and verses out of those that have the ability to store all sorts of fatwas, ahadeeth and verses (hush now, I wouldn’t be so obtuse as to accuse anyone of using Google). Don’t expect me to squeeze out an original thought however. That, sadly, would be a very tall order. Still, in order to engage any of these one-issue protestors, they’ll have to tickle my fancy with the expressions they use or the language they adopt. This has been the case with my dear Falling Rain above. He speaks of EBBE and tells me to show some respect! EBBE, my dear dribble, is not a word I recognise or use. Could you not think of any of the Almighty’s great names, saaxib? Besides, seeing what a knee-jerk reactionary you are, I would have thought the use of words such as EBBE to describe Allah would have been a great NO NO to you! Maybe the rain is not acid after all. Though I believe it to be a very superficial issue, I would still eagerly await your response with interest. To SOL’s resident charlatan(he who is in need of Allah's help), I’ll only post these pearls of wisdom from Charles Dickens. Would you heed the great man’s words (shock, horror, I called gaalka great. What will you people do with me, eh?). It has always been my opinion since I first possessed such a thing as an opinion, that the man who knows only one subject is next tiresome to the man who knows no subject. Therefore, in the course of my life I have taught myself whatever I could, and although I am not an educated man, I am able, I am thankful to say, to have an intelligent interest in most things. (Wreck of the Golden Mary) My drum has a hole and it’s sounding blunt The more I play, the more they grunt

Originally posted by Don't Kill Xu: For a second I thought I was reading my diary. Ms Parker was quiet a lady (which makes you one too I suppose ). If you ever get the chance, try to find out more about her (if you haven’t already that is). Here are a couple of poems by the same lady. Dilemma If I were mild, and I were sweet, And laid my heart before your feet, And took my dearest thoughts to you, And hailed your easy lies as true; Were I to murmur "Yes," and then "How true, my dear," and "Yes," again, And wear my eyes discreetly down, And tremble whitely at your frown, And keep my words unquestioning --- My love, you'd run like anything! Should I be frail, and I be mad, And share my heart with every lad, But beat my head against the floor What times you wandered past my door; Were I to doubt, and I to sneer, And shriek "Farewell!" and still be here, And break your joy, and quench your trust --- I should not see you for the dust! Source Finis Now it's over, and now it's done; Why does everything look the same? Just as bright, the unheeding sun, -- Can't it see that the parting came? People hurry and work and swear, Laugh and grumble and die and wed, Ponder what they will eat and wear, -- Don't they know that our love is dead? Just as busy, the crowded street; Cars and wagons go rolling on, Children chuckle, and lovers meet, -- Don't they know that our love is gone? No one pauses to pay a tear; None walks slow, for the love that's through, -- I might mention, my recent dear, I've reverted to normal, too. Source Ps STOIC, The boredom is still running strongly, you just have not been paying attention

Originally posted by ALexus.: Ngonge (wife cheater), I certainly will not be questioning your Somali for mine is no better. Rumours? I didn't start these "god-awful rumours about" you. Wife cheater? :eek: There you go again flirting with me, young lady. Anyone reading this will think I tried to sweet talk you in PM and you rejected me, Hodan Those interested will be happy to know that I have not yet tried to visit this young lady's private chambers. If and when she decides to be really really nice to me, I might consider making a fleeting visit.

Originally posted by Sky: These tragic stories are abundant in Somalia. There is also another story about a nomad in Sool who was roaming around thirsty, looking for water. When he finally arrived at a water point, the local family refused to give him water, fearing that he would deplete their water. This is strictly against Somali traditional rules. The nomad was so shocked that he vowed to never drink drink water anymore for the rest of his life. He kept his word, while the family's reputation sunk deeper and deeper after each passing day that the poor man didn't drink water. He died 30 years later at age 70 in the beginning of the 90s, only drinking milk since that fateful day. All that was left of the poor man was dry skin and brittled bones. He evidently suffered throughout those three decades, but he had a point to make. That is the character of a genuine Somali nomad. The best things about this site are these occasional, unintentional and unexpected sources of mirth. As for the tragic story of Celmi, I’ve always thought he pointlessly killed himself and that Hodan got away lightly. Just imagine if Celmi and Hodan had got together and there were none of those obstacles in their way! They would have married and had loads of kids. All the pretty girls would look like their mother and the manly boys will resemble their father. The people of Berbera would look on in envy at this pretty and loving family. Celmi, on his way home from the bakery, will pick up a rose, flower or giant watermelon for his Hodan. Hodan will cook him a delicious meal and perfume the entire house. The kids will all behave like the great and disciplined little kids that they are. It’s 1937 (as someone above said) and the family does not own a TV. The children run out to chase the family goat while Hodan and Celmi sit down to have a lover’s chat. Celmi asks Hodan if there is anything to eat in the house. She springs to her feet and runs to bring him the food that she spent all morning cooking. Celmi sits and eats in silence. Hodan watches him eat and starts remembering the old days. She giggles and says to him: remember when you used to feed me with your own hands? Celmi grunts and carries on stuffing his face with the sweet food. Hodan carries on giggling and says; remember how in love we used to be? Celmi grunts assent again and carries on eating. A drop of saliva starts developing on Hodan’s mouth. She gulps her saliva and says, you don’t feed me with your own hands like you used you, Celmi! Celmi mumbles something about ‘tomorrow’ and carries on eating. Hodan loses her patience and finally orders him to give her some of the food. Celmi is appalled! He takes a mental note to remind himself that he’s been spoiling this woman and needs to put her in her place. Hodan repeats her order and frowns. Celmi grunts and waves her away with an angry hand. Hodan runs off to the kitchen with tears in her eyes. In the kitchen, she stands there wondering what was it that attracted her to this selfish Neanderthal. In the living room, Celmi quietly chews his food and contemplates marrying a more docile and obedient wife. Mid hambadaydee ogole, he reasons. PS Don’t you dare question my written Somali. Heh. PPS Stop spreading these god-awful rumours about me being the wrong side of 30! :mad:

by DOROTHY PARKER PLEASE, God, let him telephone me now. Dear God, let him call me now. I won't ask anything else of You, truly I won't. It isn't very much to ask. It would be so little to You, God, such a little, little thing. Only let him telephone now. Please, God. Please, please, please. If I didn't think about it, maybe the telephone might ring. Sometimes it does that. If I could think of something else. If I could think of something else. Knobby if I counted five hundred by fives, it might ring by that time. I'll count slowly. I won't cheat. And if it rings when I get to three hundred, I won't stop; I won't answer it until I get to five hundred. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five, forty, forty-five, fifty.... Oh, please ring. Please. This is the last time I'll look at the clock. I will not look at it again. It's ten minutes past seven. He said he would telephone at five o'clock. "I'll call you at five, darling." I think that's where he said "darling." I'm almost sure he said it there. I know he called me "darling" twice, and the other time was when he said good-by. "Good-by, darling." He was busy, and he can't say much in the office, but he called me "darling" twice. He couldn't have minded my calling him up. I know you shouldn't keep telephoning them--I know they don't like that. When you do that they know you are thinking about them and wanting them, and that makes them hate you. But I hadn't talked to him in three days-not in three days. And all I did was ask him how he was; it was just the way anybody might have called him up. He couldn't have minded that. He couldn't have thought I was bothering him. "No, of course you're not," he said. And he said he'd telephone me. He didn't have to say that. I didn't ask him to, truly I didn't. I'm sure I didn't. I don't think he would say he'd telephone me, and then just never do it. Please don't let him do that, God. Please don't. "I'll call you at five, darling." "Good-by, darling.,' He was busy, and he was in a hurry, and there were people around him, but he called me "darling" twice. That's mine, that's mine. I have that, even if I never see him again. Oh, but that's so little. That isn't enough. Nothing's enough, if I never see him again. Please let me see him again, God. Please, I want him so much. I want him so much. I'll be good, God. I will try to be better, I will, If you will let me see him again. If You will let him telephone me. Oh, let him telephone me now. Ah, don't let my prayer seem too little to You, God. You sit up there, so white and old, with all the angels about You and the stars slipping by. And I come to You with a prayer about a telephone call. Ah, don't laugh, God. You see, You don't know how it feels. You're so safe, there on Your throne, with the blue swirling under You. Nothing can touch You; no one can twist Your heart in his hands. This is suffering, God, this is bad, bad suffering. Won't You help me? For Your Son's sake, help me. You said You would do whatever was asked of You in His name. Oh, God, in the name of Thine only beloved Son, Jesus Christ, our Lord, let him telephone me now. I must stop this. I mustn't be this way. Look. Suppose a young man says he'll call a girl up, and then something happens, and he doesn't. That isn't so terrible, is it? Why, it's gong on all over the world, right this minute. Oh, what do I care what's going on all over the world? Why can't that telephone ring? Why can't it, why can't it? Couldn't you ring? Ah, please, couldn't you? You damned, ugly, shiny thing. It would hurt you to ring, wouldn't it? Oh, that would hurt you. Damn you, I'll pull your filthy roots out of the wall, I'll smash your smug black face in little bits. Damn you to hell. No, no, no. I must stop. I must think about something else. This is what I'll do. I'll put the clock in the other room. Then I can't look at it. If I do have to look at it, then I'll have to walk into the bedroom, and that will be something to do. Maybe, before I look at it again, he will call me. I'll be so sweet to him, if he calls me. If he says he can't see me tonight, I'll say, "Why, that's all right, dear. Why, of course it's all right." I'll be the way I was when I first met him. Then maybe he'll like me again. I was always sweet, at first. Oh, it's so easy to be sweet to people before you love them. I think he must still like me a little. He couldn't have called me "darling" twice today, if he didn't still like me a little. It isn't all gone, if he still likes me a little; even if it's only a little, little bit. You see, God, if You would just let him telephone me, I wouldn't have to ask You anything more. I would be sweet to him, I would be gay, I would be just the way I used to be, and then he would love me again. And then I would never have to ask You for anything more. Don't You see, God? So won't You please let him telephone me? Won't You please, please, please? Are You punishing me, God, because I've been bad? Are You angry with me because I did that? Oh, but, God, there are so many bad people --You could not be hard only to me. And it wasn't very bad; it couldn't have been bad. We didn't hurt anybody, God. Things are only bad when they hurt people. We didn't hurt one single soul; You know that. You know it wasn't bad, don't You, God? So won't You let him telephone me now? If he doesn't telephone me, I'll know God is angry with me. I'll count five hundred by fives, and if he hasn't called me then, I will know God isn't going to help me, ever again. That will be the sign. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five, forty, forty-five, fifty, fifty-five. . . It was bad. I knew it was bad. All right, God, send me to hell. You think You're frightening me with Your hell, don't You? You think. Your hell is worse than mine. I mustn't. I mustn't do this. Suppose he's a little late calling me up --that's nothing to get hysterical about. Maybe he isn't going to call--maybe he's coming straight up here without telephoning. He'll be cross if he sees I have been crying. They don't like you to cry. He doesn't cry. I wish to God I could make him cry. I wish I could make him cry and tread the floor and feel his heart heavy and big and festering in him. I wish I could hurt him like hell. He doesn't wish that about me. I don't think he even knows how he makes me feel. I wish he could know, without my telling him. They don't like you to tell them they've made you cry. They don't like you to tell them you're unhappy because of them. If you do, they think you're possessive and exacting. And then they hate you. They hate you whenever you say anything you really think. You always have to keep playing little games. Oh, I thought we didn't have to; I thought this was so big I could say whatever I meant. I guess you can't, ever. I guess there isn't ever anything big enough for that. Oh, if he would just telephone, I wouldn't tell him I had been sad about him. They hate sad people. I would be so sweet and so gay, he couldn't help but like me. If he would only telephone. If he would only telephone. Maybe that's what he is doing. Maybe he is coming on here without calling me up. Maybe he's on his way now. Something might have happened to him. No, nothing could ever happen to him. I can't picture anything happening to him. I never picture him run over. I never see him lying still and long and dead. I wish he were dead. That's a terrible wish. That's a lovely wish. If he were dead, he would be mine. If he were dead, I would never think of now and the last few weeks. I would remember only the lovely times. It would be all beautiful. I wish he were dead. I wish he were dead, dead, dead. This is silly. It's silly to go wishing people were dead just because they don't call you up the very minute they said they would. Maybe the clock's fast; I don't know whether it's right. Maybe he's hardly late at all. Anything could have made him a little late. Maybe he had to stay at his office. Maybe he went home, to call me up from there, and somebody came in. He doesn't like to telephone me in front of people. Maybe he's worried, just alittle, little bit, about keeping me waiting. He might even hope that I would call him up. I could do that. I could telephone him. I mustn't. I mustn't, I mustn't. Oh, God, please don't let me telephone him. Please keep me from doing that. I know, God, just as well as You do, that if he were worried about me, he'd telephone no matter where he was or how many people there were around him. Please make me know that, God. I don't ask YOU to make it easy for me--You can't do that, for all that You could make a world. Only let me know it, God. Don't let me go on hoping. Don't let me say comforting things to myself. Please don't let me hope, dear God. Please don't. I won't telephone him. I'll never telephone him again as long as I live. He'll rot in hell, before I'll call him up. You don't have to give me strength, God; I have it myself. If he wanted me, he could get me. He knows where I ram. He knows I'm waiting here. He's so sure of me, so sure. I wonder why they hate you, as soon as they are sure of you. I should think it would be so sweet to be sure. It would be so easy to telephone him. Then I'd know. Maybe it wouldn't be a foolish thing to do. Maybe he wouldn't mind. Maybe he'd like it. Maybe he has been trying to get me. Sometimes people try and try to get you on the telephone, and they say the number doesn't answer. I'm not just saying that to help myself; that really happens. You know that really happens, God. Oh, God, keep me away from that telephone. Kcep me away. Let me still have just a little bit of pride. I think I'm going to need it, God. I think it will be all I'll have. Oh, what does pride matter, when I can't stand it if I don't talk to him? Pride like that is such a silly, shabby little thing. The real pride, the big pride, is in having no pride. I'm not saying that just because I want to call him. I am not. That's true, I know that's true. I will be big. I will be beyond little prides. Please, God, keep me from, telephoning him. Please, God. I don't see what pride has to do with it. This is such a little thing, for me to be bringing in pride, for me to be making such a fuss about. I may have misunderstood him. Maybe he said for me to call him up, at five. "Call me at five, darling." He could have said that, perfectly well. It's so possible that I didn't hear him right. "Call me at five, darling." I'm almost sure that's what he said. God, don't let me talk this way to myself. Make me know, please make me know. I'll think about something else. I'll just sit quietly. If I could sit still. If I could sit still. Maybe I could read. Oh, all the books are about people who love each other, truly and sweetly. What do they want to write about that for? Don't they know it isn't tree? Don't they know it's a lie, it's a God damned lie? What do they have to tell about that for, when they know how it hurts? Damn them, damn them, damn them. I won't. I'll be quiet. This is nothing to get excited about. Look. Suppose he were someone I didn't know very well. Suppose he were another girl. Then I d just telephone and say, "Well, for goodness' sake, what happened to you?" That's what I'd do, and I'd never even think about it. Why can't I be casual and natural, just because I love him? I can be. Honestly, I can be. I'll call him up, and be so easy and pleasant. You see if I won't, God. Oh, don't let me call him. Don't, don't, don't. God, aren't You really going to let him call me? Are You sure, God? Couldn't You please relent? Couldn't You? I don't even ask You to let him telephone me this minute, God; only let him do it in a little while. I'll count five hundred by fives. I'll do it so slowly and so fairly. If he hasn't telephoned then, I'll call him. I will. Oh, please, dear God, dear kind God, my blessed Father in Heaven, let him call before then. Please, God. Please. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twentyfive, thirty, thirty-five.... Source PS Disclaimer The God references make no difference to the essence of the story, dear seef-la- boods. :cool:

^^^ First game in the second league is on Saturday. Are you ready? We have six teams in that league (one is a girl). Quick, go and work on your team. PS I'm giving everyone (in all leagues) a headstart.