Idinkaa mudan, aqiyaarta. ________________ Cabdi Kaarshe Cabdi THE SOLDIER: War in a time of warlords and extremists I was recruited as a soldier in 1967. I never thought Somalis would ruin their own country and destroy people's property. Back then my salary was only 120 Somali shillings and with this I could feed my family well and save some cash in the central bank. Only 25 cents was enough to dine at a restaurant. Now we don't have coins or notes of less than 1,000 shillings. See how illiterate Somalis have spoilt our life? The worst moment in my life was the Somali-Ethiopian war in 1977, which lasted eight months. At that time, Somalia was called the lion of Africa. We had jets and T-55 tanks. Somalis had courage and dignity. We captured many towns from the mighty Ethiopians. Thousands of soldiers from both sides died, although Ethiopians died the most. As we neared Ethiopia's capital, Addis Ababa, after capturing its highlands, Russian planes began unloading tanks to fight us. Fighting escalated and we were in hell. Our commanders were ordered to shoot any Somali soldier who turned back. We had to fight to the death. Anwar Sadat, Egypt's president, called our president, Mohamed Siad Barre, to warn him that we would be overrun by troops from Russia, Yemen and Cuba. Barre ordered us to back to Somalia and we finally had a chance to run for our lives. I appeared like a ghost to my family. When they hadn't heard from me for eight months, they carried out my funeral ceremony. They never thought I was alive. My wife, kids and I hugged and shared tears of happiness in 1978. I was by then a captain. We expected Barre to stand down because of the shame he brought on Somalia. But he didn’t. In 1985, Somalia started deteriorating. Barre’s regime worsened and the democracy he only paid lip service to turned to cruelty, prompting citizens to turn against his government. Hargeisa (now the capital of Somaliland) started a revolution and Barre fought them like he fought with the Ethiopia, with tanks and jets. Eventually, he overpowered Hargeisa. But what happened next? A more powerful revolution led by General Mohamed Farah Aideed started from central Somalia. General Aideed, Ahmed Omar Jees and Abdirahman Tur together planned to topple the dictatorship and form a broad-based government for Somalia. They toppled him but the other dream did not come true. Hargeisa split and formed Somaliland, Bosasso split and formed Puntland. General Aideed struggled to pull the parts together but in vain. Somalis turned into wolves - camel herders, thieves, street boys and prisoners took up arms and started robbing, looting, raping and shooting. There was no reason for me and men like me to carry a gun. There is dignity in soldiering only when there's discipline. The looting started at the central bank. They even dug up tarmac roads and took away the electric cables. The airport was destroyed and crushed rocks collected to build private houses. Government buildings were destroyed and their bricks looted. I threw down my gun and started selling watermelons on a wheelbarrow in the streets. Most of the literate men or those who depended on the government died of hunger in the streets, fled abroad or were killed in gunfire. They could not cope with the new life. General Aideed was patriotic and he hated extremists. I'm sure Al-Shabaab would not exist if he were alive. He was the only man in the world who made the mighty U.S. surrender. He dragged their corpses through the streets of Mogadishu. I never left Mogadishu. I kept on selling watermelons and lemonade as the season allowed. I will never forget my beloved wife who was devoted to helping me bring up our seven children. She used to sell tea. None of my family was killed or injured but the list of friends and relatives who were casualties is endless. In 2002, an interim government led by Abdiqasim Salad Hassan was formed. Warlords were better than this government, which after three years were unable to control the same amount of territory that even a weak warlord had in his power. In 2006, the worst morning was born for Somalia. Somali extremists enlisted cursed foreigners. The Islamic courts led by the current president bred all evils. It was a strange culture of beheading, cutting lips, ears and limbs, digging graves of great sheikhs and taking the bones. They started beating any woman who wore no veil and any man who did not grow his beard. Extremist Islamists do not give a cent to their parents or relatives unless they conform to their ideology. Cockroaches breed in toilets and extremists in collapsed countries. A relative of mine leads a dog’s life. His wives and children were indoctrinated by Islamists in 2006. They told him he was not a good Muslim and threatened him with death. One of his wives and two daughters married jihadists and his sons became fighters, hunting down their old father. Since then, he's been hiding in hotels in the areas under the control of the government and African Union forces. This is where I also hide. I cannot go to Al-Shabaab areas. They will obviously behead me. Somalis were deceived by these Islamists. They supported and helped them fight the warlords but afterwards the Islamists slaughtered them like animals, stole their money and took their wives and daughters. Most Somalis now regret ousting the warlords, but gone is gone. Only minority clans and two or three powerful sub-clans support Al-Shabaab and believe in the so-called jihad as a means of attacking the other clans. Al-Shabaab is totally hated but the current president, who was head of the Islamic courts in 2006, has deprived civilians of their weapons. He says, “Help me fight Al-Shabaab,” but people cannot fight weapons with their fingers. In January 2011, I said to myself: "You should join the military again". I saw some dignity in this new government of Prime Minister Mohamed Abdullahi. I'm still a captain but now we are given $130 per month. There is a bit of law and order. Nowadays a military officer is saluted and his orders are followed. That is what I see. Xigasho

Binti Cumar Gacal THE SINGER: Love songs defy bullets and brutality I became a famous singer in 1980 after winning a singing competition in Mogadishu. My father played trumpet; he was in the police band. My mother sold tea. I sang in the school choir in the late 1970s. “You have a sweet voice. You could be a professional,” schoolmates and teachers said, and this inspired me. But when my mother heard the story she took me out of school. She shaved my hair and chained me. Back then, it was taboo for women to sing publicly. A famous Somali composer came and convinced my mother to release me. In 1980, I entered a singing competition and came first. I was awarded 200,000 Somali shillings -- a lot of money then. My parents argued over my singing. My father said it would bring him a name while mother said it was shameful and she demanded an immediate divorce. I bought very expensive clothes and a villa for my parents which placated them for a while. I joined the Hobalada Waberi band and continued singing love songs. My famous love song which is even now most liked is “Let me be in trouble if I cry for you again”. I was expressing the problems of ladies who lamented after the men they loved. The government used to pay every singer 500 shillings a month. It was good money but I never needed to take it. I was singing for wealthy men at their homes and earned thousands of shillings a day. Later, a relative to the dictator president tried to force me to join the military band. He jailed me when I refused. There was nepotism in every department and not all singers were allowed to be famous. Eventually I was freed. I continued singing for my favourite band but after seven years my father moved out of the house I built for him. He said he did not want anything bought from singing. I continued my work. In 1990, we, the singers, sang in a campaign to oust the dictatorship. We could not tolerate how he bombed his citizens. Good singers must always express the feelings of the people. “Down with Siad Barre,” we chanted. Our aim was to tell the people to oust that regime and then form a better one, but what happened was we ousted a bad government and failed to form even a similar one. We regretted it then and still we regret it. The dictator regime was ousted in 1991 and the bullet replaced the guitar. Music was no longer wanted and singers faced a tough life. The wealthy ones fled. Our lives were in danger. Three singers were killed in the civil war -- I always remember them. They were not involved in the conflict but when clans fought, each clan killed the most important people of the other clan -- it was barbaric. After some years the civil war died down and we started singing at wedding ceremonies and were able to earn a living. Most of the singers and musicians fled the country. But I stayed in my house and often sang with other musicians privately. Four of my kids died -- two remained -- and I have three grandchildren. My parents died years ago. My husband and I also separated sometime back. The world is like that -- people depart in the end. As I was going to a wedding ceremony in 2002, I came across militia killing a man who killed one of their relatives in a family feud. More than 13 bullets hit me. My legs were broken and I was taken to Keysane hospital. A local woman's NGO paid for my operation. But the problem was hospitals were run by militia and doctors were paid very little, so they killed patients unless they were bribed to save you. The doctor operated on my right foot and killed the nerves in it. We hid guitars and trumpets and locked ourselves up in rooms in 2006 when the Islamists came to power. To them a singer was not a Muslim and so deserved to be killed. This was the worst period in the last two decades. The information minister has done us a favour recently. He has starting bringing together us musicians and singers. He pays us $100 a month -- may God bless him. This is not enough but it is better than nothing. There are some musicians and singers who sing for national television. But I and Abdi Tahlil, another well-known singer, just take the $100. I can walk with the help of my stick but Abdi Tahlil cannot walk. He's in his house, paralyzed. I've been coming only to this hotel, the Sahafi, for all these years. I'm sure you always see me sitting here. I chew khat just to make me forget the past -- that is is how life is. Xigasho

Maxamed Bidey THE DOCTOR: Surgery and sutures under shellfire The ouster of Siad Barre was fair but we never expected the bloodshed and lawlessness that followed. I have been a doctor in Mogadishu since 1985 and I am sure few people liked that dictator's regime. Businesses were restricted, doctors had no right to own their own private hospitals. The parties that drove out that government were right but the problem was they had no plan for forming a better government. The hope we had turned into violence and evacuation -- out of the frying pan into the fire. Most people joined militias. Day and night, we doctors had to treat casualties caught up in gunfire and shelling for no pay, although aid agencies like the World Food Programme and International Committee of the Red Cross gave us food for work. Sometimes we worked at gunpoint. Gunmen ordered us to leave that patient and attend to this one or else.... Some of my colleagues were threatened with death. You treated a seriously ill or injured patient but if the patient died in surgery, the doctor faced allegations that they killed the patient. Some doctors were forced to pay a hell of a lot of money and then ran away for their lives. The situation was hellish. My family fled to Nairobi without my knowledge in 1991. My wife and six children got lost in the chaos. There was an economic crisis. To call a relative in the diaspora for help, one had to travel as far as the Kenyan or Ethiopian border just to call them: “Please send me money.” After three years, friends told me my family was safe in Nairobi. They were also told I was alive in Mogadishu. We reunited happily in Mogadishu in 1994. The country plunged into turmoil that was undreamt of. There were no universities that produced medical workers. Worse, 20 doctors died in shelling during the civil war and more fled abroad so the need for doctors grew bigger. In the end, we doctors opened Benadir University in Mogadishu in 2002. Benadir University has so far produced 81 doctors including female doctors. They all work in various hospitals in Mogadishu and other regions of the country. The suicide bomb blast at the graduation ceremony at our university on Dec. 3, 2009 was the worst incident. It is still imprinted in our minds. Glee and grief are mixed in the same memory. One minute we were talking about the happiness of issuing certificates to the first young doctors we trained, the next minute ambulances carried our dead and wounded -- 24 people including professors, doctors and medical graduates died on the spot. I lost some of my teeth and the shrapnel from the explosion injured my hand and tongue. I was among many who were taken to Saudi Arabia for treatment. Although our movement is restricted for fear of Al-Shabaab, we hope there will be peace and a central government in the near future. Here in Mogadishu, all doctors have their own private hospitals and work has been good but patients dictate. Somali patients do not want doctors’ prescription. Men and women come to you and tell you they have diseases like syphilis, diabetes, high blood pressure and so on. Most of our time is wasted in convincing patients that medicine should not be taken prior to diagnosis or examination. However, some of them do not trust doctors who find nothing wrong with them. They say, “I know I have such-and-such a disease because I feel nausea and burning in the stomach.” They say, “Write a prescription for my baby. It needs an injection of antibiotics.” We object but they dash to the pharmacies and order the pharmacist to inject their babies anyway. There has been no effective central government to control the quality of medicine and issues licences for pharmacies to operate. So businessmen import pseudo-medicine -- for example, liquids that have the colour of medicine but no quality at all. Patients keep on taking the medicine but the diseases become resistant, so patients complain and say, “If you are a good doctor, why don’t I recover after taking what you prescribed for me?” This is the problem treated by the businessmen who import expired and low quality medicine. Patients pay more and yet they are not cured. Xigasho

The stories. __________________ Cali Xuseen THE BARBER: Close shaves, savagery and the smell of peace I never thought the era of enjoyment under the former regime of Siad Barre would be replaced by blood and a dog's life. During that time I was a barber at Uruba, Somalia’s favourite tourist hotel on the edge of Mogadishu beach. It was a place of luxury where the cool breeze and the rich men converged. There was all sorts of wine and dancing. I earned $10 a day, which was enough to pay for food and water for the family. One dollar was only 150 Somali shillings at the time. In 1991, civil war broke out and the hotel Uruba was looted. I had to take a mirror and a chair to the port and that was my makeshift barber shop. Eight out of 10 customers never paid me. Militiamen just came in, had their hair cut and disappeared. Asking for money would obviously have led to a bullet in my head. The dollar went up to 6,000 Somali shillings, so life was expensive and civil war intensified. The port itself was looted and I had to take the mirror and the chair again to continue business under a tree in the western part of the city. One day heavy shelling and fighting took place. I ran home but could not see my family. There was no telephone and eventually I got tired of searching for my wife and six kids. They were hopelessly trapped in another part of the city. They also got tired of looking for me. Life became very painful and everywhere there was blood and flesh. To survive, I continued cutting hair. I could hardly get half a dollar a day but a plate of rice in the cheapest restaurant was about $3. There was terror, hunger and worry for missing families. Most people became gunmen, robbing to eat, but for me a pair of scissors was the only weapon I had. My wife thought I had died, so she married another man and bore him a daughter. In 1992, the U.S. forces (UNISOM peacekeepers) arrived in Mogadishu. We felt some relief. The dollar went down to 3,000. Food was affordable. But the threats and killing continued for years. Many barbers were killed just because of repeatedly asking for payment. I will never forget the pain and terror of the fighting. Many professors, doctors and ordinary people were killed in front of my eyes. So many people were killed -- like flies -- that we sometimes buried a dozen of them in a shallow hole like rubbish. Sometimes, I shout in my sleep late at night. I see their faces pleading, ‘Please, don’t kill me, I’m innocent’. After three years the U.S. peacemakers pulled out and soon life got worse. Life became expensive again. Robbing and the killing of people from minority clans was the order of the day. Hunger and tears continued up to 1996. After that, life improved and I could earn enough from my business to live. The happiest moment in my life was when I was reunited with my wife and six kids in 2003. Messages were conveyed through people we both knew and my wife heard I was alive. She divorced the other husband and came to me with seven children, including that man’s daughter. In 2006, the Islamists emerged and began fighting. The dollar rate rose as high as 30,000 Somali shillings. The Islamist period was undoubtedly the worst. Girls were forcibly married, property looted and innocent ones beheaded under the pretext of imposing Islamic sharia law. This Al-Shabaab used minority clans like the Somali Bantu to behead people. Al-Shabaab shot my oldest son in the head. They knew he was a former soldier. I live in a government-controlled area and I am sure they will behead me if they see me. I smell peace now. I think this is the only year we have real hope, but I am sure life will not be as good as in the 1990s under the Siad Barre regime. Who can get that life? All the luxury places like hotel Uruba have been wrecked. I now receive about 20 customers a day and charge each $1. Twenty dollars is enough to cover khat, cigarettes, the family’s needs and to pay secondary schools fees for my two kids. Xigasho

Xaafadda Siigaale bas ee ka arkaa cajalka inta hore ee degmada Hodan dhan maxaa u tiri hee. Anigana gurigeena ku yaalo agagaarka Isgoyska Bakaaraha ka raadinaaye. Siigaale iyo greater Bermuuda area mar walba dagaalada raago dhacaan meesha ugu xun ka dhacaan waa iyada. Gurigeena oo ku yaalay Isgoyska Bakaaraha mar walbana waxa Siigaale ka dhaco lee ku dhaco. Waxaa u maleeyaa inaa arko iskooladii Dhagaxtuur iyo Hodan oo ku agyaalay Isgoyska Dabka iyo Shaneemo Hodan.

Reer Turki iyo dowladoodada -- gaar ahaan wasiirkooda koowaad iyo wasiiradisa iyo reerahooda -- wey wada mahadsanyihiin. Eebbana ha ugu abaalgudo -- aamiin, aamiin.

Soomaalicentric, Ciid maa saas ugu xiiso qabtaa. Xalwada ma kaaga soo dhiibaa Islii, though. But xalwada qurbaha laga helo ayaa ka macaan kuwa inta ku arkay. Naasir/, waa hore Islii kugu dambeysee, saaxiib. Isku sanad baxnay, I guess. Bal mar kale soo booqo. About the 'money laundering, prostitution and drugs,' personally I think it is over-exaggerated. If sending lacagaha through xawaaladaha is 'money laundering' then by all means it is. Drug problem kama jiro if seriously jaadka dadka cuno la dhaho drug problems waaye. But Soomaali meelee ku badantahay jaad wuu yaalaa, and this country ayuuba ka baxaa jaadkaasna. Dad jirkooda iska gadana wey jiraan, laakiinse saas uma badno. Dhif dhif haa. Basaska still waa sidoodii, oo hip hop images and other American idols ku wada sawiran, inkastoo loud music ee shidi jireen laga joojiye, but sometimes wey shidaan.

"The folks who make this website what it is. The tireless nomads who view SOL as their own piece of the net!" So says a group's description. Who are they? Maanta lee arkee.

Aad iyo aad ugu mahadsanyihiin, Eebbana ha ugu abaalmariyo -- aamiin, aamiin. Turkiga iyo Soomaaliya do to this day have a historical, special relationship, since waagii Axmed Gurey Cismaaniyiinta xiriirla la lahaa.

Today's blog: Soon in Islii First Soon aan ku soomo in Afrika since 1996. In fact, it was during Soonka aan ka tago Nayroobi in that year. It really feels wonderful meel Soomaalida aad ugu badantahay ku soontid, waa iska Xamar meeshaan, very much like a post-war Xamar. One downside of Soonka -- albeit being a bit minor and that which I forgot it would happen-- waa candhuufta dadka tufaayaan. Meel Soomaali ku badantahay oo wada sooman maxaa ka sugee. Candhuuf xaaqo miiran meelba ku tufaayaan, una darantahay markee ku tufaan on the pavements. Caadi ayeeba la tahay, darn. It is my major beef of Soonka in here. Otherwise it is wonderful to be in an environment where you can really feel soonkaaga maadaama dadkaaga Soomaaliyeed wada sooman ku dhex jirtid.

I met this Soomaali dude in Calgary, Alberta, last year who, along with two others, arrived from Hong Kong a few months earlier. It was said he had Hong Kongese 'girlfriend' impregnated back in Hong Kong.

Eating soor iyo maraq suqaar camal ah with moos for suxuur now. Bahal caag kooka qaboob agteyda taalaa, just in case. Who eats qamadi for suxuur? Wah.

Aamiin ayaa leeyahay ducooyinkiina, waana ku wada mahadsantihiin dhammaantiinaba. Mar kale mahad Eebba.

Soon wanaagsan dhamaan horta. Soonkii iigu horeeye aan Afrika ku soomo waaye soonkaan since '96. In fact, I left Nayroobi during Ramadaan in that year. I hope Soon iyo ciid la dareemaayo inay noqoto since Islii is practically a Soomaali city itself. About suxuurta, xalay waxaa ku suxuurtay canjeero, caleen, suugo iyo mashed potato -- all provided free by the hotel I am staying at. There was some mishaari, but caloosheyda boos uma heynin cunideeda.

Waa wada mahadsantihiin dhamaantiina. Aamiin ayaa wada leenahay ducooyinkiinana. Mar kale mahadsanidiin.

Today's blog: Bankiyada iyo Islii Islii by far has more banks per square kilometre than any other land in Kenya. In my rough last count, there are no less than fourteen multinational and national banks within a few blocks from one another in Islii. Banking here is very lucrative. Soomaalis being Muslimiin, they open non-interest accruing banking accounts, both saving and chequing that are charged $5 for Kenyan shilling account or $10 for U. S. dollar account per month. Lacagtee dhigtaana waa laga sii isticmaalaa and they get nothing in back. Even in Canada, the banking account charges are nothing near that. Aad ayaa loogu faa'ideystay Soomaalida iyo lacagtooda. That is why even that famed British Barclays bank just opened another new, sparkling branch in the heart of Islii, just across from the 6th St. masaajid.

Nina, adaa mudan. Centric, you are so interested knowing meeshee deganyihiin miyaa. Last I heard labada lammaane isguursaday waxee deganaayeen Westlands. Os, not really, but I am here for now.

Waa runtaa, Nina. Soomaaliya la'aanteed adduunka waxee nala noqoneysaa cusbo, xawaaji, sanjabiil iyo basbaas ka wada maqan waaye.

Who?

Ms. Centric, isdaji nooh, see camal. Aaliya, soonka markuu soo dhowyahay maalmihii laguugu lahaa iska gudeysaa miyaa. You should have done that in Febraayo or Janaayo, more easier. By the way, meeqo saac ayaa soonkaan la afuri doonaa? 9:30 pm?

Ha dhawoow, ha dhaaf, ha gal, ha mood.

Muqdisho oo saakay Gurmad waji cusub leh laga bilaabay Shacab isxilqaamay ayaa albaabada xaafadaha gaaracaya isla markaana ka soo ururinaya qoysaska canjeero duban oo diyaarsan taasoo dhibanayaasha loo marinayo saliid iyo sonkar sidaasina ay ku cunayaan. Dadka gurmadkan fidinaya ayaa ah dhalinyaro iyo haween waxaana muuqaneysa in waji cusub oo gargaar ay noqoneyso talaabadan. Mudooyinkanba shacabka Soomaaliyeed waxa ay wadeen qorshayaal ay iskood isugu gurmanayeen, waxaana laga dareemayay dhaqdhaqaaqyada gargaarka xaafadaha iyo degmooyinka magaalada, iyadoona inta badan dadaalada ay hogaaminayaan dhalinyarada iyo jameecooyinka masaajida. Talaabooyinka ay isku gargaarayaan shacabka ayaa waxa ay muujineysaa sida shacabka ay diyaarka ugu yihiin in ay is kaalmeeyaan oo la daryeelo shacabka dhiban. Xigasho