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Writen By Wiilwaal (


The scene is a coffee shop. The narrator walks with a book in hand. The opening monologue takes place as he orders and pays for his coffee.


Myself: (his voice only) There is a corner – a coffee shop to be precise – in this cold town, where I spent some of the happiest hours of my youth. It was there that I read War and Peace and something of Stendhal; it was there that I used often reminiscence of my native land and silently recall simple things of the past; and it was there that I met Her who’s now my life. But I don't go there anymore. And it's all because of that Somali cat affair – the most comic business now that I think about it. The incident itself was as amusing as it was unexpected. I was sitting my usual spot, drinking my same old double espresso when all of a sudden walked a childhood friend, who evidently did not like who I had become. He was among other things, a cab driver, and, of course, my kinsman. We are all related somehow.


My Kinsman: How are you, brother? Tell me the news.


Myself: I am fine. (Motioning him) Sit down.


My Kinsman: ( Sitting) What are you reading?


Myself: Nothing important. Some novel.


My kinsman: (He picks up the book and carelessly examines the content by the cover) I don't get you anymore. Walahay you used be a better Muslim, when you were a boy. I remember how you memorized and recited the whole Qu’ran. You were Sheik Ali’s favourite pupil and now look what you have become – reading some rubbish book.


Myself: (Uninterested) What else is new?


My Kinsman: Brother, I am sorry to see you have changed.


Myself: I am sorry to see you haven't.


My Kinsman: Brother, you have lost your culture.


Myself: No, friend, I have lost my pretensions.



Silence. They sip their drinks. The kinsman examines room around him. The narrator appears to be reading the back cover of his book. In the meantime, two middle class women join their section of the shop and sit behind them, where they can be overheard.


First Woman: Victoria brought home a Somali the other night.


Second Woman: A Somali?


First Woman: Indeed, of all choices, an exotic Somali.


Second Woman: It’s a rough and tough one to handle.


First Woman: I know. It is a vicious creature.


Shocked, the two men start to eavesdrop on the ladies.


Second Woman: Everybody knows the Somali is not even a genuine breed.


First Woman: It’s half Abyssinian; half I know not what.


Second Woman: But the worst part is that you can’t toilet train the darn thing.


First Woman: The Somali type is terrible. Couldn’t she find Siamese or something?


Enraged and offended Kinsman gets up and confronts the two women.


My Kinsman: What you say about Somali people? We hear everything.


First Woman: (surprise) Sir, we haven’t said anything about anyone.


My Kinsman: Yes, you say some bad things about Somali people. You say we are terrible creatures and we don’t know how to use toilets.


Second Woman: Sir, you are mistaken. We were discussing cats – Somali cats.


Mykinsman: We know you lie. Both of you said we are Abyssinians. We are not Amhara. We hate Ethiopians, and we hate your racist country---let’s go brother. Naga keen balaayada.


Myself:(hesitant) …I will follow you.


Interrupted and terrified and their chat cut off, the two ladies also exit through a different door.



Myself: (his voice only) I did not follow him. In fact, I did not know what to do. I just sat there. I found the whole incident overpowering if not embarrassing. No doubt, my kinsman overreacted. But what about the ladies themselves? Clearly, they were in the wrong; they had no right to abuse our people. Did you believe their story? I didn’t either. I mean whoever heard of a Somali cat? I was bewildered. But as I sat there, I couldn’t help thinking what if the Europeans in their crazy ways of nicknaming God’s creatures have named a cat after us. This was a remote probability, nevertheless, a possibility. Luckily, I had my laptop with me. Right then and there, I researched Somali cat. To my horror, there, is after all, such a thing as a Somali cat. The creature is everywhere in the net. In fact, the cat has more fan clubs than all the Somali factions put together.


Waitress: Do you two realize you have just abused a couple of cat lovers?


Myself: (Readies himself and stuff for a leave) I know. ..I know Alison (Dejects the narrator heads to the exit door. )


The End

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:D Soomaali maryooleey waxaan wey ka suurowdaa, laakiin sheekada mid la alifay u egtahay.


Laakiin af shisheeyana lagu qoray qoraalka, qeybtaan Afsoomaaliga kaliya lee loogu tala galay inaan ku wadaagno ama ku sheekeysano.

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I had the thought that the story was a fiction, however it'z very interesting to read don't ya agree?

Besides, ma ogeeyn in af-Soomaali kaliya halkaan loogu tala galay, my bad huuno

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