Zafir
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Posts posted by Zafir
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FB , Not even a hint of remorse I see, there is no winning with you yaah. Nonetheless, you are on the board now FOREVER. :mad: :mad: -
^I think, the records disapproves with you young lady. In fact they have you in the black section, along with the other Africans.
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^Who told you not having your booty hanging out isn't respect?
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Originally posted by Faarax-Brawn:
Lol,This looks like a tutorial on how to be an uptight snob. Gentleman maashe?
Thanks a lot,Laakin anu uma baahni..Nice interesting read tho,the younglings,the Khalafs,the Che's,theZafirs ,the Marc Smifs(smuff?) & the confused discombobulated lot(I.E, all TFG sympathisers)could surely use this guide.How dare you? Just so you know, from here on out your user name will be on the board for my dart practice. :mad:
Ps: Isseh. how you say your user name in Somali?
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Your guide contradicts the privileges bestowed on manly man, this fine gentleman business sounds fishy to a manly man's ear.
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The Biggest Loser.
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Part time is better than full time in this case.
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^^I am with you on this one. Underdog, let our Bill O'Rally do his thing.
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^Will you think less or more of him if he is?
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^^ I believe Somalis have it wrong in this particular saying " Waraabaha kan ciya iyo kan aamusan, kan aamusan baa daran"; it should be the other way around really. Because, it’s a well known fact that threat is worse than execution,and as for Ngonge he is waraabe alright.
Dhubad, Kicking/taking advantage of someone while they are down isn't raganimo, if anything it's the contrary. Taking up the second one while the first is still in her prime is having Huge ones in my counrty, I don't know about yours.
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Originally posted by marcassmith:notes for what exactly Zafir? as i explained previously i improvise on most of the videos. As for the shades, i have been meaning to take them off for a while now but since i am a very controversial figure in the community, its best if i remain hidden for the time being.MARCDuuuude,YOU ROCK!
Ps: I think you're the best thing that happened to Somalis after Cabdi Bile Cabdi!
Pss: Controversial!!
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^Then bring forth your notes, some of us get distracted by your shades and don't really pay heed to anything.
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Originally posted by NGONGE:^^ What an unfortunate choice of words there. "out with it" and "chastity belt can be moderated to accompany a man"...I am now going to stay well away from this topic. Ciyaala suuq. Originally posted by Dahia al Kahina:ps,Ngonge you can jump in at any time now Kaba daran oo dibi dhal, Dad wada walaan. -
LOZ, Australian dookh fiican la waah.
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^^ I personally think his heart is in the right place, but there is a significant difference in making difference and making claptrap.
Hello Val
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Just for you
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^ Help the man if you can sxb.
[edited]
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Mr. Point, Being subjected to substitute is an infringement on one’s free will, how would you feel substituting your seasonal snow blower for a shovel Mr. Point? Wouldn't smuggle it in the chance you get, for the right price in a heart beat and use it in the wee hours to hide from the neighbors to plow. Would you wish that on any one? I know I wouldn't.
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^Aamiin. Happy New Year all.
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Ilaahoow u naxariiso.
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^No she can't! But this is what happens with the computer, webcam, and internet access.
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You got to love this Somaliland Lioness!
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There was another interesting character on board who caused many of us
to stop and think. He was a young British army officer who was mauled by
a lioness several months ago in Somaliland. He now walked with a decided
limp and was likely to lose his commission in the army because of
physical infirmities. He was cheerful, pleasant, and looked hopefully
forward to a time when he could have another go at a lion. This is the
way the thing happened: Last March he was shooting in Somaliland and ran
across a lioness. He shot her, but failed to disable her. She
immediately charged, chewed up his leg, arm and shoulder, and was then
killed by his Somali gunbearer. He was days from any help. He dressed
his own wounds and the natives tried to carry him to the nearest
settlement. Finally his bandages were exhausted, the natives deserted,
and it was only after frightful suffering that he reached help. In three
weeks blood poisoning set in, as is usual after the foul teeth of a lion
have entered the flesh, and for several months he was close to death.
Now he was up and about, cheerful and sunny, but a serious object lesson
to the lion hunters bound for the lair of the lion.
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Hey You.
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What a story!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
No book on Africa seems complete unless this incident is mentioned
somewhere within its pages.
We looked out at Tsavo with devouring interest. All was still, with the
dead silence of a tropical night. Then the train steamed on and we had
several hours in a berth to think the matter over. In the early hours of
morning, we stopped at Simba, the "Place of Lions," where the
station-master has many lion scares even now. In the cold darkness of
the night we bundled up in thick clothes and went forward to sit on the
observation seat of the engine. Slowly the eastern skies became gray,
then pink, and finally day broke through heavy masses of clouds. It was
intensely cold. In the faint light we could see shadowy figures of
animals creeping home after their night's hunting. A huge cheetah
bounded along the track in front of us. A troop of giraffes slowly
ambled away from the track. A gaunt hyena loped off into the scrub near
the side of the railroad and then, as daylight became brighter, we found
ourselves in the midst of thousands of wild animals. Zebras,
hartebeests, Grant's gazelles, Thompson's gazelles, impalla, giraffes,
wildebeests, and many other antelope species cantered off and stood to
watch the train as it swept past them. It was a wonderful ride, perhaps
the most novel railway ride to be found any place in the world. On each
side of the Uganda Railroad there is a strip of land, narrow on the
north and wide on the south, in which game is protected from the
sportsman, and consequently the animals have learned to regard these
strips as sanctuary. There were many tales of lions as we rode along,
and the imagination pictured a slinking lion in every patch of reeds
along the way. I heard one lion story that makes the man-eaters of Tsavo
seem like vegetarians. It was told to me by a gentleman high in the
government service--a man of unimpeachable veracity. He says the story
is absolutely true, but refused to swear to it.
Once upon a time, so the story goes, there was a caravan of slaves
moving through the jungles of Africa. The slave-drivers were cruel and
they chained the poor savages together in bunches of ten. Each slave
wore an iron ring around his neck and the chain passed through this ring
and on to the rest of the ten. For days and weeks and months they
marched along, their chains clanking and their shoulders bending beneath
the heavy weight. From time to time the slave-drivers would jog them
along with a few lashes from a four-cornered "hippo" hide _kiboko_, or
whip. Quite naturally the life was far from pleasant to the chain-gang
and they watched eagerly for a chance to escape. Finally one dark night,
when the sentinels were asleep, a bunch of ten succeeded in creeping
away into the darkness. They were unarmed and chained from neck to neck,
one to another. For several days they made their way steadily toward the
coast. All seemed well. They ate fruit and nuts and herbs and began to
see visions of a pleasant arrival at the coast.
[Drawing: _They Made Their Way Steadily Toward the Coast_]
But, alas! Their hopes were soon to be dispelled. One night a deep
rumbling roar was heard in the jungle through which they were picking
their unanimous way. A shudder ran through the slaves. "_Simba_," they
whispered in terror. A little while later there was another rumble, this
time much closer. They speedily became more frightened. Here they were,
ten days' march from the coast, unarmed, and quite defenseless against a
lion.
Presently the lion appeared, his cruel, hungry eyes gleaming through the
night. They were frozen with horror, as slowly, slowly, slowly the great
animal crept toward them with his tail sibilantly lashing above his
back. They were now thoroughly alarmed and realized to the utmost that
the lion's intentions were open to grave suspicion. Breathlessly they
waited, or perhaps they tried to climb trees, but being chained together
they could not climb more than one tree. And there was not a single tree
big enough to hold more than nine of them. The record of the story is
now obscure, but the horrid tale goes on to relate that the lion gave a
frightful roar and leaped upon the tenth man, biting him to death in a
single snap. The dilemma of the others is obvious. They knew better than
to disturb a lion while it is eating. To do so would be to court sudden
death. So they sat still and watched the beast slowly and greedily
devour their comrade. Having finished his meal the great beast,
surfeited with food, slowly moved off into the jungle.
[Drawing: _The Lion's Intentions Were Open to Grave Suspicions_]
Immediately the nine remaining slaves took to their heels, dragging the
empty ring and chain of the late number ten. All night long they ran
until finally they became exhausted and fell asleep. In the afternoon
they again resumed their march, hopeful once more. But alas! again.
Along about supper-time they heard the distant roar of a lion. Presently
it sounded nearer and soon the gleaming eyes of the lion appeared once
more among the jungle grass. Once again they were frozen with horror as
the hungry beast devoured the last man in the row--number nine. Again
they sat helpless while the man-eater slowly finished his supper, and
again they were overjoyed to see him depart from their midst. As soon as
the last vestige of his tail had disappeared from view they scrambled up
and hiked briskly toward the coast, nine days away.
[Drawing: _While the Man-Eater Finished His Supper_]
They were now thoroughly alarmed, and almost dreaded the supper hour.
The next night the lion caught up with them again and proceeded to
devour number eight. He then peacefully ambled away, leaving another
empty ring.
The next night there was a spirited contest to see which end of the
chain should be last, but a vote was taken and it was decided six to one
in favor of continuing in their original formation. The one who voted
against was eaten that night and the remaining six, with the four empty
rings clanking behind them, resumed their mournful march to the coast,
six days away.
[Drawing: _Two to One_]
For five nights after this, the lion caught up with them and diminished
their number by five. Finally there was only one left and the coast was
a full day's march away. Could he make it? It looked like a desperate
chance, but he still had hopes. He noticed with pleasure that the lion
was becoming fat and probably could not travel fast. But he also noticed
with displeasure that he had forty feet of chain and nine heavy iron
neck rings to lug along and that extra weight naturally greatly
handicapped him. It was a thrilling race--the coast only one day away
and life or death the prize! Who can imagine the feelings of the poor
slave? But with a stout heart he struggled on through poisonous
morasses, and pushed his way through snaky creepers. The afternoon sun
slowly sank toward the western horizon and--
The locomotive at this point of the story screeched loudly. The wheels
grated on the track and my official friend leaped off the cow-catcher.
"Here!" I shouted, "what's the finish of that story?"
"I'll tell you the rest the next time I see you," he sang out, and so I
don't know just how the story ended.
Troll Corner
in General
Posted
Having been under the weather the last couple of days, I have showed up work feeling nauseated this morning, because I take another day of sitting in bed. Forty five minutes ago I left for lunch still feeling the blues of the weather. I took the elevator down alone, on the 8th level this short lady got on, we exchanged pleasantries for two minutes and she got off at the 4th level, counting down the levels brought this urge to push down all the numbers on the elevator given there was no one to get on while I got off.
I fought off the urge thinking it was unseemly and irresponsible, when I landed on the main floor and the elevator doors slid open and saw no one, both my hands as if possessed pushed all the bottoms on the elevator all 18 floors, despite all my attempts to reason with my body, it did what I specifically asked it not to do. I got off took about three steps and there was a man that ran beside me hurrying to catch the same elevator I got off from, as an adult in trouble I picked up the pace, I didn’t go far before I heard the innocent traveler utter “Hey!” and that was when my legs ran away with me. I couldn’t eat my lunch without laughing nervously at my actions. Ironically I feel much much better now.