This week went away lazily. It was one of those weeks where nothing significant happened and the days just rolled into each other. But I managed to catch some decent sleep for a few nights, which is rare in my life. I remember I came from work on Thursday, cooked some dinner and by 7pm I was in bed. Didn't wake up till 4am when it was time to go to work again!
I came across an interesting word; smozing. It means to pose whilst you smile, apparently what most uber-trendy high-flying Americans see as a must-do at all times. (how many hiphens did I use? lol)
The weather is changing haphazardly with continous rain that sometimes brings tree-shaking winds. And then it becomes mellow and almost spring-like. This is all in the span of a week. I guess DC is in touch with her female side; can't decide on the weather she wants to wear!
I'm gearing up for Seattle and Portland in a few weeks. I'm looking forward to it since I've been longing to get away for a bit from the mayhem we constantly report. It can drag you down sometimes when the news you report is dominated by people dropping dead or being abducted. If it's not people, it is the destruction of the environment, graves and buildings. What a world we live in.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
I can see her fading...
Fading deep into the highlands of history leaving fond memories for her previous inheritants to speak about, whilst little effort has been made to keep her alive. Their children grow up smiling with an expressionless face everytime they hear her story, the contribution she made to history, since they struggle to relate. Who am I talking about? The Somali language. The language that has thus far allowed the existence of Somali culture and heritage but whose usage is decreasing by the day. I find solace in the internet world when I scroll through Somali websites written in Somali language and listen to Somali radio but on the streets it's a different story.
Young Somali children are growing up developing a mother-tongue distantly removed from their Somali language. They grow up speaking fluent English, Swedish, Dutch, Norwegian relating to the cultures of the countries that speak those languages. So what happens when the older generation dies and these youngsters become thriving adults who barely speak Somali? Can you see the death of a culture?
I once met an aspiring, talented Somali RnB singer who sang beautiful ballads and funky love songs. I asked him who he felt inspired by. He said he looked up to old-skoolers like Stevie Wonder, Marvin Gaye, Anita Baker and James Brown. He didn't like the 'late-comers', as he called them." They didn't sing from the soul", he said. I asked him if he ever listened to the old-skool Somali singers like Hassan Aden Samatar, Hibo Nura and Omar Dhule. He looked at me with a baffled look. Then the penny dropped; "Oh you mean duqooshinka (meaning old people). My mum listens to them all the time." I was intrigued by the fact that he didn't consider Marvin Gaye or Stevie Wonder old, he considered them legends, role models. This is the reality of today's Somali societies.
Somalis have fled a country torn by civil war to the security of western nations. But as they continue to live and raise their children, the children grow up with a minute knowledge of the Somali language merely spoken at home and an identity dominated by the culture of the country they were brought up in. As a result the world will see the decline of the use of the Somali language and consequently the practice of the Somali culture.
Young Somali children are growing up developing a mother-tongue distantly removed from their Somali language. They grow up speaking fluent English, Swedish, Dutch, Norwegian relating to the cultures of the countries that speak those languages. So what happens when the older generation dies and these youngsters become thriving adults who barely speak Somali? Can you see the death of a culture?
I once met an aspiring, talented Somali RnB singer who sang beautiful ballads and funky love songs. I asked him who he felt inspired by. He said he looked up to old-skoolers like Stevie Wonder, Marvin Gaye, Anita Baker and James Brown. He didn't like the 'late-comers', as he called them." They didn't sing from the soul", he said. I asked him if he ever listened to the old-skool Somali singers like Hassan Aden Samatar, Hibo Nura and Omar Dhule. He looked at me with a baffled look. Then the penny dropped; "Oh you mean duqooshinka (meaning old people). My mum listens to them all the time." I was intrigued by the fact that he didn't consider Marvin Gaye or Stevie Wonder old, he considered them legends, role models. This is the reality of today's Somali societies.
Somalis have fled a country torn by civil war to the security of western nations. But as they continue to live and raise their children, the children grow up with a minute knowledge of the Somali language merely spoken at home and an identity dominated by the culture of the country they were brought up in. As a result the world will see the decline of the use of the Somali language and consequently the practice of the Somali culture.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
proof-vs-perosnal memory
Whenever I watch court cases where people testify as witnesses to their own or other people's ordeals and it gets rejected as insufficient evidence I often wonder how does one proof what happened to them? Take the Serb-Bosnian war for example where Bosnian Muslim women were raped on numerous occassions, some of them according to the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia trial as young as 15. So this 15 year old grows up but is still haunted by the memories of those rapes and decides to get justice when she's in her late twenties. Since then the war has ended, the places where these rapes took place had been demolished and she does not have any clothes for DNA traces to be done. Long story short; she only has her memories. How does she proof what happened to her and subsequently bring the perpretrators to justice?
These type of incidents happen in my homeland all too often. When I went to Somalia some years ago, I got acquainted with a few young ladies who live on the border city of Balanballe, right next to the Ethiopian border. They informed me there is an Ethiopian military base right by the border and many Ethiopian soldiers wander in and out of the city on a frequent basis. Sometimes they take Somali men they claim are planning a terrorist attack on Ethiopia, sometimes they take young women. Some of the ladies I met were amongst those taken. They told me how they would come late at night as the ladies are about to shut their small cafes known there as 'bibito' and tell them they have to come out and meet them at the border, otherwise they will take their male family members such as their fathers, brothers, uncles, husbands etc and kill them. Out of fear these ladies would go to the border and get taken into the Ethiopian compounds. What happens to them in there surpasses the term 'horrific torture'.
Yet these women have to come back to a lawless country where the culture demands women to not speak of gross atrocities such as these, as the women told me. In fact it is frowned upon for women to speak of any form of sexual activity. They have to get on with life as if nothing happened all along whilst carrying this burden.
I felt helpless as I listened to their stories but even when I came back to the West I was still in a position of helplessness. Everytime I watch a court case story on TV where human stories get classified as insufficient evidence or hear stories of physical abuse, I remember these women and ask myself how exactly do you prove you got raped when all you have is your memory.
These type of incidents happen in my homeland all too often. When I went to Somalia some years ago, I got acquainted with a few young ladies who live on the border city of Balanballe, right next to the Ethiopian border. They informed me there is an Ethiopian military base right by the border and many Ethiopian soldiers wander in and out of the city on a frequent basis. Sometimes they take Somali men they claim are planning a terrorist attack on Ethiopia, sometimes they take young women. Some of the ladies I met were amongst those taken. They told me how they would come late at night as the ladies are about to shut their small cafes known there as 'bibito' and tell them they have to come out and meet them at the border, otherwise they will take their male family members such as their fathers, brothers, uncles, husbands etc and kill them. Out of fear these ladies would go to the border and get taken into the Ethiopian compounds. What happens to them in there surpasses the term 'horrific torture'.
Yet these women have to come back to a lawless country where the culture demands women to not speak of gross atrocities such as these, as the women told me. In fact it is frowned upon for women to speak of any form of sexual activity. They have to get on with life as if nothing happened all along whilst carrying this burden.
I felt helpless as I listened to their stories but even when I came back to the West I was still in a position of helplessness. Everytime I watch a court case story on TV where human stories get classified as insufficient evidence or hear stories of physical abuse, I remember these women and ask myself how exactly do you prove you got raped when all you have is your memory.
the similarities among the different
I was watching a report on AlJazeera earlier on about Pol Pot and his party Khmer Rouge that led Cambodja from 1975-1979. As I listened to the communist methods Pol Pot implemented and its totalitarian way of ruling I couldn't help but notice some of the similarities they shared with Somalia's Siad Barre regime. Though the atrocities committed by Khmer Rouge far outweigh the ones people associate with Siyad Barre, he too implemented national rebuilding schemes done by the people. It was called "iskaa wax u qabso" (do it yourself). I remember tales from my grandmother as she told me how people build the schools they would sent their children to, the mosques they would pray in, the farms that would produce the food they ate and police stations that would safeguard their security. The country's social institutions were revived by the very people it would serve. I'm guessing Pot had a similar ambition but instead failed to research the necessary groundwork on how this would manifest.This led me to look into why some countries were drawn by communism but subsequently turned into failed or plagued states such as the case of China. The ruling elite of China rejoice in the name of 'The people's republic of China' but the majority of those whose name is manifested in their country title continue to suffer from lack of basic human needs such as a fair minimum wage and working hours, freedom of speech and what religion to follow. This country thrives as one of the largest if not the largest exporter of toys, cars, technology, games and clothes off the back of the suffering of its people.Communism in the words of its founder Karl Marx refers to a classless, stateless and oppression-free society where decisions on what to produce and what policies to pursue are made democratically, allowing every member of society to participate in the decision-making process in both the political and economic spheres of life. However I have yet to find a country that has adopted communism at some stage be it Somalia, Ethiopia, its father the Soviet Union or any other country that has remained truthful to implementing those policies.
In Somalia for example, though some attemps were made to negate this class based system, the Digil and Mirifle people were considered less than ordinary Somalis in the Siyad Barre regime and consequently didn't have the same rights as everyone else. I have to point out that this was not something Siyad Barre imposed but more a culturally rooted manifestation but I do wonder why the communist policies that were the base of Somali governance at that time weren't implemented to eliminate the existence of this culture.Many say communism has died with the end of the Cold War in 1991 but its influence still lingers around us globally.
So my question is to bring equality and justice into full existence in our world, do we need to reform and revive communism or does the solution lie in the complete eradication of communism?
In Somalia for example, though some attemps were made to negate this class based system, the Digil and Mirifle people were considered less than ordinary Somalis in the Siyad Barre regime and consequently didn't have the same rights as everyone else. I have to point out that this was not something Siyad Barre imposed but more a culturally rooted manifestation but I do wonder why the communist policies that were the base of Somali governance at that time weren't implemented to eliminate the existence of this culture.Many say communism has died with the end of the Cold War in 1991 but its influence still lingers around us globally.
So my question is to bring equality and justice into full existence in our world, do we need to reform and revive communism or does the solution lie in the complete eradication of communism?
Thursday, November 5, 2009
a note taken
One of the things I've noticed since living by myself here in DC are all the things I rarely had to take care of. My washbasin has been blocked for two days now and I went to my apartment building's office to get maintenance to take care of this but they have yet to show up. These are the days I particularly admire my mother as she took care of all these little hiccups that come up in the house. I don't remember ever any of our washbasins or sinks being blocked for 2 days straight. Even when I lived in London I was blessed to have decent landlords who would frequently stop by and check up on things in the house and fix whatever that needed some fixing, even when all of us who lived there were out. All we worried about was taking care of the bills. Here every so often something needs fixing (during summer my apartment was freezing but maintenance took forever to adjust the temperature) and it waits for me to sort it out. Dear Lord I say.
Ten months on and I'm still adjusting to the early work schedule, I still struggle to get out of bed at 4am to get to work for 5am. I'm dreading winter as it gets ridiculously cold here, it's not even funny. Inauguration was one tough time to be outside in DC's Capitol Hill. To top it all my desk area at work is right underneath the main AC in the ceiling and it keeps blowing cold air regardless of how many times it gets adjusted. I feel like cold follows my scent whether I'm at home or in the office! I've found a solution though; a small portable heater which I bought not too long ago and plan on taking it to the office as soon as winter time hits hard (I'm not joking).
On the upside DC has also given me resourceful times on my hands from the mind-broadening books I have access to to the programs I produce at work. My workload has piled up over the months but it is progressive and I feel I am developing my skills every day. I come home feeling tired due to the early rising but I'd still be buzzing with creative ideas to implement the next day.
So far DC has hastened me to grow up. Every morning she screams at me "wake up, dress up and show up!" I don't get away with the excuses I had back home; DC does not know what a sick day means! But she gave me a platform to bloom, realise my ambitions and bring out my
A-game and for that I remain happy I moved here.
Ten months on and I'm still adjusting to the early work schedule, I still struggle to get out of bed at 4am to get to work for 5am. I'm dreading winter as it gets ridiculously cold here, it's not even funny. Inauguration was one tough time to be outside in DC's Capitol Hill. To top it all my desk area at work is right underneath the main AC in the ceiling and it keeps blowing cold air regardless of how many times it gets adjusted. I feel like cold follows my scent whether I'm at home or in the office! I've found a solution though; a small portable heater which I bought not too long ago and plan on taking it to the office as soon as winter time hits hard (I'm not joking).
On the upside DC has also given me resourceful times on my hands from the mind-broadening books I have access to to the programs I produce at work. My workload has piled up over the months but it is progressive and I feel I am developing my skills every day. I come home feeling tired due to the early rising but I'd still be buzzing with creative ideas to implement the next day.
So far DC has hastened me to grow up. Every morning she screams at me "wake up, dress up and show up!" I don't get away with the excuses I had back home; DC does not know what a sick day means! But she gave me a platform to bloom, realise my ambitions and bring out my
A-game and for that I remain happy I moved here.
I ponder..
on why Somalis feel the need to argue/debate every single moment they get the tiniest chance? From politics and how to govern Somalia to getting into a car when there is several of them, they will spend ridiculous amount of time arguing who will sit where and who should go in first or sit at the front. In politics they will argue about silly things like should president Sharif shake Hillary Clinton's hand! Meanwhile children are starving of malnutrition, malaria, diarrhea and all sorts of preventable deseases. The women are struggling to make ends meet to feed their families because their men are either too busy debating on pointless issues or fighting pointless wars.
Fast forward to the Daispora and similar issues are taking place; they will spend however long to argue outside of Starbucks and point the finger at xildhibaan (MP) so and so. A few days ago I went to get some food at this restaurant in Virginia and stumbled upon two Somalis debating whether this Somali guy who was apparently interviewed on the BBC's speech would've been better if he didn't 'uhm' so much!!! One was passionately arguing this guy sounded unprofessional and lacked knowledge because of his 'uhms'! I pray for these people. Why should this matter? Isn't the content of his peech more important to pay attention to?
The world wonders why Somalia is in such turmoil when her people are too blind to acknowledge what they are doing to themselves but yet pay particular attention to the style of one's conversation.
Anyway now that my rant is out of the way, my past two weeks have been productive, particularly my weekends. I spent the weekend before last at the library and at Dupont Circle reading and buying books. The library has become my little sanctuary ever since I moved here but unfortunately I haven't had much time to spend there lately due to crazy work commitments so I was happy to have that weekend to spend there. I fell in love with one particular book; notes from the hyena's belly written by an Ethiopian author called Nega Mezlekia. The book is so vividly written, I feel like I know the streets of Jigjiga though I've never been there. Admirable piece of work.
Whilst in Dupont I went to a gathering organised by the Young African Professionals with Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, one of my favourite authors. The woman breathes life into African literature with her work and is even more captivating in real life. The gathering was so huge, people were standing and seated on the floor! There were so many different people there representing the whole continent from Ethiopia and Zambia to South Africa, Namibia, Nigeria and Senegal (I think I was the only one that repped for Somalia though). I had a great time.
During the working week my rested body was put to good use; I was working back to back covering the Africom event at the State Department and the Africare memorial dinner (which was a blast by the way as we had the pleasure of being entertained by John Legend who received the humanitarian award and Angelique Kidjo) on top of the usual running around in the office chasing news. Finally my body gave in yesterday after I came from work and I slept from 4pm to 3am! Woke up this morning totally rejuvenated though lol.
What saddened me at work last week though was this young Somali lady who was impregnated by one of the AMISOM peacekeeping forces from Uganda and then had to put up with the curse that is sometimes Somali culture. The lady never intended to marry this man but he made this an ultimatum to cure her sick father as he was in an AMISOM hospital where this soldier worked as one of the doctors. As she complied, she was shunned and harrassed by her own family when they found out. She was moved to Uganda by the Ugandan officials and the soldier was sentenced to 18months in prison as he broke international peacekeeping laws. However the lady was left with a baby to take care of, no regular income and no support from her community. Furthermore she found out he wasn't a Muslim and the marriage ceremony was done the Islamic way. We interviewed her and as she shared with us her story, she couldn't help but weep every so often. I couldn't help being moved.
I'm wondering if it is just me or is time really going faster than ever. I can't believe we're in November already. I was made to realise this point as I was doing my grocery shopping earlier on and Christmas stuff was already out. I'm trying to stay with the times though having done all my interviews and recorded audio material for my Horn series, which is in the editing stage right now so look out for it in your google alerts sometime in the near future!
Fast forward to the Daispora and similar issues are taking place; they will spend however long to argue outside of Starbucks and point the finger at xildhibaan (MP) so and so. A few days ago I went to get some food at this restaurant in Virginia and stumbled upon two Somalis debating whether this Somali guy who was apparently interviewed on the BBC's speech would've been better if he didn't 'uhm' so much!!! One was passionately arguing this guy sounded unprofessional and lacked knowledge because of his 'uhms'! I pray for these people. Why should this matter? Isn't the content of his peech more important to pay attention to?
The world wonders why Somalia is in such turmoil when her people are too blind to acknowledge what they are doing to themselves but yet pay particular attention to the style of one's conversation.
Anyway now that my rant is out of the way, my past two weeks have been productive, particularly my weekends. I spent the weekend before last at the library and at Dupont Circle reading and buying books. The library has become my little sanctuary ever since I moved here but unfortunately I haven't had much time to spend there lately due to crazy work commitments so I was happy to have that weekend to spend there. I fell in love with one particular book; notes from the hyena's belly written by an Ethiopian author called Nega Mezlekia. The book is so vividly written, I feel like I know the streets of Jigjiga though I've never been there. Admirable piece of work.
Whilst in Dupont I went to a gathering organised by the Young African Professionals with Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, one of my favourite authors. The woman breathes life into African literature with her work and is even more captivating in real life. The gathering was so huge, people were standing and seated on the floor! There were so many different people there representing the whole continent from Ethiopia and Zambia to South Africa, Namibia, Nigeria and Senegal (I think I was the only one that repped for Somalia though). I had a great time.
During the working week my rested body was put to good use; I was working back to back covering the Africom event at the State Department and the Africare memorial dinner (which was a blast by the way as we had the pleasure of being entertained by John Legend who received the humanitarian award and Angelique Kidjo) on top of the usual running around in the office chasing news. Finally my body gave in yesterday after I came from work and I slept from 4pm to 3am! Woke up this morning totally rejuvenated though lol.
What saddened me at work last week though was this young Somali lady who was impregnated by one of the AMISOM peacekeeping forces from Uganda and then had to put up with the curse that is sometimes Somali culture. The lady never intended to marry this man but he made this an ultimatum to cure her sick father as he was in an AMISOM hospital where this soldier worked as one of the doctors. As she complied, she was shunned and harrassed by her own family when they found out. She was moved to Uganda by the Ugandan officials and the soldier was sentenced to 18months in prison as he broke international peacekeeping laws. However the lady was left with a baby to take care of, no regular income and no support from her community. Furthermore she found out he wasn't a Muslim and the marriage ceremony was done the Islamic way. We interviewed her and as she shared with us her story, she couldn't help but weep every so often. I couldn't help being moved.
I'm wondering if it is just me or is time really going faster than ever. I can't believe we're in November already. I was made to realise this point as I was doing my grocery shopping earlier on and Christmas stuff was already out. I'm trying to stay with the times though having done all my interviews and recorded audio material for my Horn series, which is in the editing stage right now so look out for it in your google alerts sometime in the near future!
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