Identity is a contested term but what does it mean to be Somali these days in the Western World? This is an issue I have grappled with and I think most young Somalis in the West face similar identity issues on a daily occurrence that affect our daily thoughts and actions!

Many of us live in multicultural societies represented by a diverse and mosaic set of identities but it’s difficult to create 'our' own distinct identity amongst already established cultures. Many of you will agree this failure to create a single Somali identity has induced a lot of problems for our young people who are surrounded by more influential cultures around whether it be it ‘hip-hop’ ‘Islamic’ ‘African’ ‘Arab’ or even ‘western’ identities, even though Somali culture is influenced by these cultures!

This has led to many self-hating people in our community. In fact, there are more self-hating Somalis than in most other communities. These people are quick to deny their sense of self and often have an inferiority complex. This has had a disastrous consequence for the already strained Somali identity. Gone are the days when a big forehead and being skinny or wearing a penguin style hijab and having a limited grasp of English were key features that identified a Somalis from amongst the crowd.

Many of those who self-hating are discovering new ways to turn their backs on being Somali! And are instead banking on new lifestyles that are detrimental to our very existence. This brain flight has been caused by our own apathy and indifference.

Please dispel the misconceptions on Somali culture and do you best to rescue any self-hating Somali in our midst from losing their rightful and deserved place in the world.

What can you do to help?

Mentor young people
Celebrate Somali cultural heritage
Promote and foster an appreciation of Somali History
Explain the complex issues affecting Somalis

Thanks! your efforts are appreciated!

As Somalis we generally tend to perceive our settlement in the western world in temporary terms. The older generation and particularly women, generally express emotional orientation towards Somalia and are often absorbed by events at home. From my observations, we often talk about current events in our host countries, but it’s from a social habit rather than a keen interest in the affairs of the host society.

Moreover we rarely establish social relations with members of the mainstream community partly due to linguistic and cultural barriers and of course perceived racism. So for most Somalis, contact with the local people is very limited as is their knowledge of British, American, Canadian or even European life and customs. This voluntary segregation has induced Somali people following a daily pattern that greatly constraints interactions with the mainstream community. Our main leisure pursuits are informal social visits to the homes of relatives and friends. Men and women usually spend their time in khat chewing sessions to create a nostalgic romantisation of life back home. Additionally wedding receptions, Eid festivities and the occasional Somali concerts or cultural events one-off social events offer some connection with Somalia.

Many Somali families are headed by a single mother, whatever the circumstances, welfare benefits usually become the sole income for the family with the state replacing the husband/father as the Family provider. Even when families do stay together, Somalis suffer from high levels of unemployment and are therefore receiving benefits. This obviously impacts on the individuals’ self-esteem and confidence and deprives them of the status they once had as father, worker and provider

What’s more the resurgence of clan consciousness, partly due to the political polarisation in the Somali peninsula creates further factions, thus effectively inhibiting a community spirit or a united front for a fair share of community grants.
It is also crucial to recognise that even within own community; we are highly segregated, often having the strongest bond with clan allegiance as opposed to the Somali national identity. The Somali community is consequently tribally segregated across London for instance. Somalis in different parts of London constitute different clans. For instance Somalis in Tower Hamlets are predominately from Somaliland. While Somalis in Islington are mostly from Puntland and south central Somalia. But it seems as though times are changing, as younger generations, both those escaping violence at home and those born here are renegotiating their Somali identity and their relationship to the UK in a new context.

Despite Somalis now in the western for more than 25 years, I think it’s fair to say we are a community in a state of flux: unsettled, neglected and fragmented in both attitude and orientation.

A man sleeps inside a shattered Building

Another year went by - almost slipped without being noticed much. It has been one long volatile year for Somalia with the arrival of the Ethiopian forces to help the incredibly incompetent Transitional Federal Government (TFG) of Somalia. Today the Ethiopian forces have almost obliterated the weak and vulnerable people of Mogadishu and the very government that was supposed to protect the feeble residents has but given the Ethiopians carte blanche to exercise their authority. The residents of Mogadishu, instead of celebrating the New Year with their loved one, are burying their dead relatives, mourning the deaths of their young one while despondently clinging on to the one thing that unites them all- hope! They are bracing themselves for another year of misery - their cheerless eyes half-heartedly fixed on the perilous road ahead, expectantly awaiting their fortune or misfortune… They have become refugees in their own country!

I am hereby wishing the residents of Mogadishu in particular a very Blessed Eid and all the best for the bleak year ahead. The following song is dedicated to them as a show of support. It is patriotic song from the legend Muse ismaciil Qalinle and it is called “Hadii aanan dhulkaygow” Enjoy…

Hadii aanan dhulkaygow
Dhuux cadaawe kuu Karin
Hadii aanan dhulkaygow
Dhiig kuugu fool dhiqin

If, for you my land, I don’t
Cook an enemy’s marrow
If, for you my land, I don’t
Rinse your face with blood

Hadii aanan dhulkaygow
Gobanimada soo dhicin
Soomali kama dhalan

If for you my land I don’t
Sovereignty reclaim
I wasn’t born of a Somali

Maalkaaga maan dhaqan
Caanihiisa maan dhamin
Ciidana dhab uma ladin

Your wealth I did not keep
Its milk I did not taste
And the soil I did not truly inhabit

Hadii aanan dhulkaygow
Gaaja kuugu dhuubnaan
Hadii aanan dhulkaygow
Dharka kuugu duubnaan

If for you my land I don’t
Become emaciated with hunger
If for you my land I don’t
Become draped in your clothes

Hadii aanan dhibaatada
dhexda suunka ku adkayn
Hadii aan dhaxantiyo
milicdaba u dherernaan
Soomali kama dhalan

If for the difficulties I don’t
Fasten my waist with the rope
If the bitter colds I don’t
and the scorching heat endure
I wasn’t born of a Somali

Dhirta miraa kamaan guran
Dhuunigaaga maan cunin
Kuma dhaqaaqin magacaa

The fruits I did not pick from your trees
Your food I did not consume
And your name I did not preserve

Maalkaaga maan dhaqan
Caanihiisa maan dhamin
Ciidana dhab uma lihi

Your wealth I did not keep
Its milk I did not taste
And the soil I did not truly inhabit

Somalia is not a country like any other; it has been described as one of the most homogeneous states in Africa, with 98% of its people described as Somali, with a common language, adherence to Islam as well as its cultural homogeneity. Somalia is neither African nor Arab, although it is located on the African continent and has often been considered Arab in some ways. As is the case of all nomadic societies of arid and semi-arid lands, Somali society is largely a product of its geographical and climatic environment, the land is very dry and generally does not permit agriculture, and as a result people move around with their herds of livestock, forever in search of good pasture and water. With no possibility of permanent settlement in cities, the nomadic and temporary mobility of Somali people has not been conducive to economic accumulation and the formation of political structure and as a result the constant movement implies frequent friction in the competition over scarce resources.

The opening of Suez Canal in 1869 saw the interests of European colonial powers in the Horn of Africa increase, which previously had been limited and consisted of a few different treaties with local rulers. Following the Berlin conference and the scramble for Africa in the nineteenth century, Great Britain, Italy and France completed for the territory of Somalia, arbitrarily dividing a linage-segmented but culturally homogeneous population into four district colonial units. The colonial powers started to increase their sphere of influence in the Somali speaking region and each colonial power seized a significant portion of Somalia. Great Britain possessed the Protectorate of British Somaliland in Northern Western Somalia and the Northern Frontier District in the North Eastern Province in Kenya, while the Italians colonised Southern Somalia. France possessed La Côte Française des Somalis or Djibouti as it later became known as after independence in 1977. Additionally, the regional colonial power Ethiopia colonised the Ogaden and Haud regions of Somalia, which to this date still remain part of Ethiopia and which has caused a number of subsequent wars between Somalia and its neighbour.

In 1960, the British conceded independence to the Somaliland Protectorate, while Italy relinquished control to the South. The former colonies joined to form the Somali republic. The democratic unity was short lived and collapsed within thirty years. In 1969, the democratically elected President, Abdirashid Ali Shermarke was assassinated in a Coup d’état and General Mohamed Said Barre, Head of the Somali Armed Forces assumed the head of state. During the Barre tenure, Somalia followed a course of reunifying all Somalia territory under a one flag. This was increasingly made difficult by colonial demarcations; the European Colonial powers had divided Somalia’s territory and had given to Kenya and Ethiopia respectively in the NFD and Ogaden regions. As a result of colonial demarcations, tensions grew between Somalia and its neighbouring states of Kenya, Ethiopia and Djibouti. As Cold War geopolitics intensified in Africa, the Horn became engulfed in period of hostilities as both the United States and the Soviet Union vied for a sphere of influence over Somalia. This was largely the result of Somalia’s strategic location along the oil routes from the Persian Gulf, as well as to halt Ethiopian socialist hegemony in the region. During the early 1970s, the Soviet Union aided and armed Somalia. Barre, in turn professed socialism to win Soviet military assistance. Subsequently Barre transformed the military dictatorship into a socialist one, where full-scale central planning ensued under the government policy of “scientific socialism”. This policy allowed the Somali government to build a strong army and paramilitary government. In 1977, Somalia and Ethiopia began a war over the disputed territory in the Ogaden Region. The Soviet Union armed and aided Barre’s attempts to annex Ethiopia’s ethnically Somali Ogaden Region. The US in turn supported the capitalist government of Ethiopia against the Soviet influenced Somali regime. However once the Soviet Union strategically switched support to Ethiopia’s new Marxist government, Somalia lost the Ogaden War and has to go back to colonial demarcations.

By the early 1980s the United States had replaced the Soviet Union as Somalia’s military patron. US military and economic aid to Somalia dramatically increased and totalled more than $400 million. Despite this, During the subsequent period, following the defeat to Ethiopia, the government intensified its reach in people’s ordinary life and slaughtered civilians, who posed threats to the government’s plans or political power and that this was achieved by the use of coercive intimidation to create artificial support for its activities, and forcibly relocated others to further the political or economic ends of Barre regime. The simmering conflicts among the Somali elite and rival militias lead to the formation of opposition parties, each drawing support from particular clan families. By 1988 the situation in Somalia rapidly deteriorated and broke out in a full-blown civil war, as government forces attacked major cities in Northern Somalia. Some of the most vicious government campaigns were waged against the former British Protectorate in Northern Somalia, home of the Somali National Movement (SNM). In retaliation the SNM launched a military offensive, entering many northern cities. The government in turn responded with extreme force, destroying the cities of Burao and Hargeisa. This precipitated a civil war, which displaced over a million people; many Somalis sought refuge in Ethiopia. While it’s estimated that the shelling and aerial bombardment killed over 72,000 people in Hargeisa alone. The civil war in Somalia was thus a manifestation of clan antagonism with no ethnic division.

This, above, is the Somali hut being constructed - and as I mentioned before, you’d notice that it is only women who build the huts. The men usually gather the wood from the Galool, Gob, Dhumay trees etc, and then the women get to work. The above hut being constructed is called Saddex-dhigood, meaning it is made out of three arched Gob branches as you can see above. This is the smallest hut constructed and the largest is made out of seven. The most common huts though are made out of either three or four Dhigood (arched branches).

Though not of the same hut, this is how the inside of some huts looks like. In this picture, the thin branches that run somewhat perpendicular to the three Dhigo, along the entire hut, are called lool. These lool form a spread above the Dhigo so that the woven mats can be fastened onto the hut.

And this is how the mats are then fastened to the hut. What you see in the picture on the left is called Udub-Dhexaad - the middle, or sometimes on either sides of the hut, wood made usually out of Dayyib tree that fortifies the hut and keeps it erect.

And this is how the inside looks like when it is finally built, with a small branch for hanging clothes as an extra (left).

Now that the hut is almost complete with all the pillars of wood erected and the hut standing firmly, the only thing left to do is fasten the skilfully woven mats onto the pillars wood. The mats are made from something called Caw (above left) and have to be made by hand. First the Caw is gathered from the woodland after days of scouting, then after getting rid of the impurities, it is assembled as above and the interlacing or plaiting of the Caw begins (above right). This process of interlacing the Caw is called Falag and is usually done over drinks when women gather for conversations late in the afternoon.

After interlacing the Caw, a single long sheet of Caw is made. This sheet is called Gadaan (above left). The name is derived from the meaning of the word Gadaan which means “round” - and because the Caw, after each plait, is rounded up as in the above picture, it is given such a name. Hundreds of single plaits of Caw are then interwoven to form a large mat called Dermo (Plural - Dermooyin). The picture on the right shows the Dermooyin on top of the hut.

And here is the final result… As for the time it takes - well I passed by the hut being built (top) on my way to a place called Ceelbuh. By the time I came back, about and hour and a half later, the hut was completed! In whatever way it is made, the intricacy and magnificence of the Somali Aqal is a testament to the ingenuity and handicraft of the Somali nomads, or Somali women I should say. The huts are made entirely by young girls and their mothers and the involvement of a man is very little, limited to just collecting the wood needed for the construction. For their mats, the Somali women still weave brilliant artefacts dating back to the early times of nomadic life. The learning process of making Aqal Soomaali (Somali hut) is passed down from generation to generation, from mother to daughter and sleeping inside one of these huts is a truly wonderful experience. Kudos to the female Somali nomads!

I woke up from my sisters hut. Beside me, stacked in some corner or hanging from the boughs were Sati, Sallad, Bocor, Hadhuub, dhiil, etc. – the very finest of a Somali nomad’s handmade utensils (I will explain these in another post hopefully in detail). Being my first time sleeping on a mat on rock solid earth, after so many years, together with my peculiar habit of sleeping on one side, I woke up with that morning with sore shoulders and a bruised ribcage.
It was a bright day, with a clear blue sky above. Not a single cloud hovered in the sky. The villagers of Habarshiro had already woken up and were by now at the wells, watering huge numbers of animals. My mother sat outside the hut – ardaaga, a partly enclosed area at the entrance of the hut plastered with tiny pebbles and covered (usually) with a mat – and made breakfast. That day it was Ruub – special thick round bread baked under burning ashes served with Sixin. After gobbling down the food quickly I made my way to the berked, for I have been informed that my younger sister, Zainab, would be arriving to see me today. I watered the animals from the Berked, all the time expecting the figure of my sister to emerge from behind the small hill that surrounds the village. After about an hour, she finally emerged, exhausted but with a radiant smile and with her seven-month old baby on her back! I couldn’t believe it – she had walked from a distance of four hours to come and see me and there were no words, however lofty, to repay that kind of love…

By noon, after we had lunch, I was sitting amidst several of my relatives when we were informed that a she-camel belonging to my father had gone missing a few days ago. The news came as a bolt from the blue to all the people, for their love for camels is without comparison. Generally, for the nomads, the lost camel is far dearer to them than all the present ones combined, so they would do everything at their disposal to search for it, often hunting it for days in the wilderness without returning home. Soon my brother, Mohamed, an expert camel herder, was sent with information of its last known location to follow it and bring back any news or sightings - a confirmation whether it was worth the pursuit or if it has been disposed of by the ever present predator, the hyena. They wanted a confirmation and as the old proverb goes “hubsiimo hal baa la siistaa” (precision/certainty is worth a she-camel). The rest of the day passed without much vibrancy

The next morning my brother came early into the village with some news. Traditionally, when someone brings news to the nomads they welcome the bearer of the news in hope that he brings glad tidings. They say;

Warran oo lagugu ma warramo,
wiilkaaga mooyee walaalkaa ku ma dhaxlo,
la waari maayee waayo joog,
wax xun iyo cadaab la’ow

Bring news, but may your news not be brought
May your son inherit you and your brother not
Life won’t be long but may you live long
May you be free from all that is evil and hell

And he did bring some news. “There have been several sightings of a she-camel,” he said, “but its whereabouts were still unidentified. I have seen some tracks and followed them. There appeared to be a hyena chasing the camel, but just past Manshax the tracks disappeared.” The news was even worse than they had expected. The involvement of the hyena had raised their worst fears. Immediately an expedition was organised. The car that brought me to Habarshiro was still with me and so was the driver. It was then decided that we must take the car and look for the she-camel. We set off early, two of my brothers, my cousin and I, following tracks and trails of animals. Stopping at several huts yielded no valuable information. We finally met a young shephard in the vast Sool plateau and that’s when we were informed by the nomad that a ‘lone she-camel’ had been spotted earlier somewhere to our East. A sigh of relief came upon the faces of my brothers and cousin.

A Nomad with his flock of sheep and goats

We followed the direction of our informant nomad and headed east. The car drove slowly across plain fields and desiccated terrain, stopping from time to time and my brothers getting out to inspect and sift through the hundreds of footprints on the soil. Analysing the trails very precisely, they’d decide upon the time they were left and in which manner, as in if the camel was running or walking, and then they would decide upon the direction the tracks were leading to, thereby estimating a specific location that it would have reached.

A camel herder with his camels

The nomads are expert trackers and their knowledge of their land is unrivalled. Using trees as landmarks and indicators of their location, the nomads know exactly how long it would take a camel, or a person for that matter, to travel from one place to another, and using this knowledge we headed for the probable route of the she-camel and the estimated destination. After about 2 hours, and regular intervals to inspect more tracks that would confirm our quest, we finally managed to find the she-camel, among other camels. She wasn’t in a bad state, except for her rear which was bitten by a hyena. This explained the running tracks that Mohamed saw on the first day of his inspection of the surrounding areas - the trails of the camel being chased. And what a relief it was. Such a relief that the camels were immediately milked and we were served with fresh camel milk with Ruub.

Milking a camel (haaneed)

As the days progressed, I learnt more about the customs of the Nomadic tribes and soon started to admire them. Though living in the throes of water shortages and meagre resources (this is during the dry seasons or Jiilaal. When it rains and water is in abundance, the nomads live a luxuriant life for they don’t have to take the animals to far away watering places and traditional songs and folk dances are performed regularly in the open. There is always plenty of meat and milk to be consumed and it becomes a merry time for weddings, so young men go scouting for their brides in these dances), the nomads are perhaps the one group of people who have understood life’s fundamental lesson of simplicity. They care neither for the trials the barren land may unfold tomorrow, nor do they weigh themselves down with the burdens of yesterday. They live for today, with as little of life’s encumbrances as possible. In their secluded world, detached from all worldly lures, the present is all that matters - the past has no relevance and the future no certainty. Enjoying whatever the earth yields, they live a frugal lifestyle without extravagance. They wake up the morning, each person going about his assigned job. No worries or stress, for as long as they have their camels, life is jolly good (except for the dry seasons when they struggle hard to find grazing grounds and water for their livestock).

Eating Ruub with fresh camel milk - the man is holding a Gaawe or Hadhuub-gaal

Now after my return to London, I have become slightly disenchanted with all the superfluous material pleasures and their impermanent value. Life in Miyi has left upon me an indelible impression and my wish is to return there as soon as chance permits me. I now have a clearer insight into the nomadic lifestyle with all its perils and pleasures. I do not think I could live it through though (settling down there I mean), but try I will one day!

The Somali Nomadic lifestyle is what defines the Somali culture. It is from these dry plateaus, valleys and watering holes from which all Somali traditions spring, forming the bedrock of the Somali society and a rich cultural heritage handed down to generations of camel herders and pastoralists. The traditional dances and weddings in Miyi forms the basis of almost all Somali poetry and music. To understand the meaning and origins of Somali poetry, music and literature, one must be fairly informed about the pastoral lifestyle, for without that one looses majority of the meanings, metaphors, allusions and insinuations imbedded within them.

The camel, as I have mentioned in an earlier post as well, is the centre of hundreds of poems from the earliest poets to the ones of today. Here is a poem that summarizes the life of the she-camel in 5 lines, from birth to maturity (I’ve added the ages the poet talks about for your convenience) ;

gugey dhalatay geed lagu xiryoo xariga loo gaabi
guga xigana gaaleemadiyo* dhogorta qaar goyso (2 jir)
guga xigana uur-giringirey* geela ku hor meedho (Qaalin yar, 3 jir)
guga xigana awar garabsatoo gooja* la hudeecdo (hal, 4 jir)
guga xigana good* nirig dhashay gaawe* laga buuxi (5 jir)

The year she was born, she is tied to a tree and the noose loosened
The year after that, she peels off part of her fur (aged 2)
The year after that, with a round belly, she parades in front of the camels (aged 3)
The year after that, she mates, becomes pregnant and dawdles (aged 4)
The year after that, good has given birth and a gaawe is filled (aged 5)

*Gaaleemada = the first fur the she-camel develops at a young age. this coat of fur stripped when the camel reaches about two years of age.
*uur-giringirey = by this time the calf develops a slightly big belly. She is neither suckling nor is she mature enough yet.
*Goojo = when the she-camel is pregnant the first sing is that as soon as someone approaches it, or a he-camel approaches it for mating, it spreads its hind legs and urinates. This is called Goojo and the camel-herder estimates a time when it would give birth.
*good = the she-camel is now called Good. As soon as she gives birth she is given a name, but before giving birth she is called “daughter of such and such” or “ina hebla”.
*Gaawe = Hadhuub gaal used for milking camels.

In another poem, Cumar Australia composed a brilliant poem about camels.

Ragga laxaha sii dhawrayow dhaqasho waa geele
Dhibaatiyo adoo gaajo qaba dhaxanta jiilaalka
Dhoor* caano laga soo lisoo yara dhanaanaaday

O’ you men who tend to sheep, rearing is camels
when adversity and hunger finds you in the winds of Jiilaal
The milk obtained from Dhoor with its sharp taste

Nin dhadhamiyey wuu garanayaa dhul ay qaboojaane
Goortaad dhantaa baa jidhkaba dhididku qooyaaye
Ragga laxaha sii dhawrayoow dhaqasho waa geele

A man who tasted them knows where they cool down
as soon as you drink it, does sweat drench the body
O’ you men who tend to sheep, rearing is camels

Waxa dhaba habeenkaa ninkii dhama galxoodkeeda*
Dhallaanimo qodxihii kugu mudnaa kaaga soo dhaca e
Ragga laxaha sii dhawrayoow dhaqasho waa geele.

Guaranteed it is that a man who drinks its (camels) Galax*
In childhood the thorns that pricked you would be discharged
O’ you men who tend to sheep, rearing is camels

*Galxood = comes from the word Galax. When a camel is milked, the fresh milk is initially hot and forms a lot of froth on the surface. The milk is left to settle down and the froth disappears. Once it disappears, very cold, pure milk is what remains. This is called Galax.
*Dhoor - Mane. Also known as Baar. A camel with a mane has not been used for carrying water or disassembled huts. Dhoor is also sometimes used as a name for a she-camel.

Cumar Australia also goes on to say that;

Inkastood adduun badan dhaqdo dheemman iyo daaro
Inkastood dhar wada suufa iyo dhag iyo laas qaaddo
Dhaxal male nin Soomaaliyoon dhaqannin koorreey*

despite you having a world of diamond and dwellings
despite you having luxuriant clothes of cotton
Inheritence he has not, a Somali who doesn’t rear a camel

*koorreey = comes from the word Koor which means a wooden bell - the one tied around the camel’s neck. Here Koorey refers to camels.

For centuries the Somali Nomadic lifestyle had existed; people have endured the worst of droughts and famine and were content with their herd of camels, and though that lifestyle is now somewhat sluggishly diminishing, pastoralists will continue to exist despite the growing number of villages and urbanisation of Miyi (Nomadic dwellnigs).

My trip to Somalia last summer has been quite an eye-opener. I have learnt so many things about the culture, the people and the land of Somalia. Below is the first leg of my journey towards Miyi (where the Nomadic settlers live)

We left Bosaaso just before twilight set upon us. Accompanied by my brothers, we left my hotel at Al-Rowda, passed by Bosaaso Hospital, a thousand and one restaurants at the edge of the main road, countless hawkers, cars, lorries heading out and entering the city, people, goats, sheep, soldiers, more hotels, carts and finally silence. Except for our short stay at Xalwo Kismaayo whilst we bought some sweets and mineral water, there was no commotion-filled, busy and eventful streets to be heard, no clamour of voices, no obnoxious Qat sellers, no loud conductors pulling you into their buses, just the noise of rubber eating away the tarmac. Arid, dry land occupied either sides of the road as far as the eyes caught. Further ahead, great mountains towered above the levelled ground. The enormity of such mountains loomed over the vast barren earth and formed a somewhat pleasing sight. By then I was all expectations. Every minute that passed brought me closer to an emotional reunion with a family I’ve left a long time ago and filled my heart with anticipation. I was starting to feel the goosebumps appearing.

The long stretch of road led us past the city control limits where the cars are checked for weapons, then past the villages of Laag, Karin, Kalabaydh, and several other tiny ones along the roadside and then just after we passed the dangerously serpentine road of Alxamdullilah, the driver came off the asphalted road and took a narrow rough path, through the arid land formed by the tyre tracks of cars and constant usage . The rough road rapidly rolled in front of us and the car bounced up and down at great speeds. We followed that route through an immense dark terrain, through Ballibusle, through Laag Xaariseed and after a gruelling five-hour journey set foot in the wilderness of Sanaag at 2 AM. A small hut erected in the middle of no where greeted us and adjacent to it, two thick fences made from the thorny branches of Galool trees formed two large rings. Inside the rings, called Ood, animal dung had plastered the earth, covering the thin layer of soil. This is where the sheep and goats along with their lambs and kids come to rest after a day of traversing the plains of Sanaag.

From the hut exited my young brothers and sisters and my step mother and from there started the emotional reunion. It was an occasion worthy of a celebration and fresh meat was immediately served. We stayed that night or whatever was left of it and slept in the open, watching the millions of glittery stars that decorated the sky and danced around the vivid moon to form an enchanting display. What a pleasant night that was!

Waking up early that morning, I observed my surroundings. I noticed with enthusiasm the extent to which my vision was restricted to - as far as my eyes could see. With trees such as Qudhac, Meygaag, Galool, Damal, Bilcil and Higlo along with some Dhirindhir (i will post pictures of these trees later on) spread sporadically along a vast flat land, the wilderness was as open as the sea and stretched out for perhaps hundreds of kilometres. Such a vast area of land is called Sool (not to be confused with the region of Sool). Sool means an area that comprises of mainly the trees I mentioned above covering acres of land. It was the Xagaa season and the land, being slightly sterile was rainless and dry. Small bushes, usually a few centimetres off the earth, known as Dureemo and others slightly bigger, known as Duur, covered the earth. Duur is used extensively for building huts and enclosures for animals. All this I observed whilst on my way to where my mother lived - a small village called Habarshiro, right in the heart of Sanaag.

Habarshiro

Habarshiro, a tiny village lying at the foot of a small hill has Ceelbuuh as its nearest neighbour. Here, the vast land was, for the most part, unoccupied except for a few houses that conspicuously took up their rightful places in the middle of no-where. Barren and dry as it was, there were hardly any trees either, apart from the few dry trunks that stood like solitary soldiers assigned to keep watch and guard the village. Several wells surrounds the city known as Berkedo (sing. Berked). These serve as watering grounds for more than two thousand heads of camels, sheep and goats almost every day.

Berked (right)

As the car closed the distance between me and Habarshiro, my heart hammered heavily in her chest, threatening to crack my ribcage open. I even thought I heard its pulsating beats. A reservoir of tears gathered at the brim of my eyes, ready to gush out at the very mention of the word “hooyo” – mother! The car had not even come fully to a halt when I pushed the door open, jumped out, flung my arms around my mother and silently sobbed tears (though strongly repressed ) of delight, relief and excitement. A graceful woman with finely tuned features she was, though baked by the sun into a dark chocolaty complexion, and must have been without comparison in beauty in her glory days.

Gradually my heart came to rest and the thudding was replaced by a wave of comfort. The warmth of my mother’s embrace disposed of the inner restlessness, evaporating all concerns and worries into thin air and putting my troubled heart to rest. Everything else seemed insignificant then, my mind was for the first time completely free of thought! This was where I wanted to be and this was how I wanted to feel. At that very instant my life had changed and without regard for what perils and tribulations lay ahead, I’ve decided that this was where I wanted to spend the rest of my stay – under the shelter of my mother’s hut. The rest of my siblings were away, dispersed into the immense terrain, so whilst my father and relatives sat under the shade of the Higlo tree, I grabbed my younger sisters and mother and went inside the hut.



Left: A Somali Hut, Right: resting under a Higlo tree

After a few days stay in Habarshiro, it was time to discover the customs of the nomadic tribes. I set out early in the morning towards the Berked to water and load the camels my brother had brought from his hut in Manshax - three hour’s journey away from the village. Every two to three days he makes the same journey and loading his camels with water, returns to his house. This is called Dhaan. So that particular morning, with a strong desire to walk the plains of Sool and discover the land by foot, I volunteered to accompany my sister Seytun who was to take the dhaan back to my brother’s house. Being the first time I have seen her in her 20 years of living, I wanted to be very much with her all the time. Little did I know what lay ahead and how much trekking I would have to do.

Dhaan (right)

We set out with five camels loaded with water for two families. As soon as we disappeared from the sight of Habarshiro, I stopped and looked around. Not another single soul in sight, except for me and my sister and not another living thing except for our five camels. The immensity of the terrain simply astonished me; you could be walking for miles and not come in contact with a human being. We strolled along at leisurely pace, talking passionately about our lives through all the years of separation. An expert trekker, having traversed the entire terrain in every direction perhaps a thousand time, she knows the location of almost every tree in the area.

We were walking for only about an hour and I could feel that my body was spewing out sweat in excessive amounts and my feet begged for some rest. That I gladly welcomed and sought the shelter of a Higlo tree at which point my sister teased me for being unhealthy. That is how I completed my journey - walking for about an hour in the open and then finding some shelter under a tree. We finally reached our destination by noon - two small huts, intricate in their design, in the middle of a vast open space - and unloaded the water. There I sat, fatigued and panting for breath, and accepted a fresh cup of camel milk from my sister-in-law. I dreaded the journey back to the village and wished for once that I hadn’t been so impulsive. A three hour journey awaited me and I had to make it before darkness envelops the land, for then hyenas own the night.

Luckily I did manage, greatly exerting myself, to return to Habarshiro as soon as the rays of the sun plummeted down the horizon. After a few days rest and the pain in my feet subsided, I was ready for another ‘excursion’ - another painful excursion... The difference between life here and my life back in London was simply astonishing.

to be continued...