Great Somalia A Dream Gone With The Wind

Great Somalia A Dream Gone With The Wind

Great Somalia A Dream Gone With The Wind
Dear reader, that false dream of Great Somalia is gone with the wind. If you are from the Evil – Empire of Mogadishu, or from the Banana Republic of Jibouti. Don’t ask me; why. That Banana Republic that is run by our brother – In – Law Mr. Abu – Lahab and his beauty queen Xamaalat – Al – Xatab who carries the Nuclear Bomb Button Box, masterminded by our own Ina – Xoosh of the Era, Mr. In – Aw – Saciid. Dear reader, Time and memory are true artists ; they remold reality to the heart’s desire. But time is a file that wears and makes no noise. Memories ties to the past, as hope ties us to the future and memory is the watchman of the brain.. Dear reader, he that teaches patience had never seen the pain. If you give your milk to the cat for the second time; you must drink water out of the sink.
Great Somalia A Dream Gone With The Wind
There are no words that can describe the euphoria you feel when your baby recognize you for the first time; and smiles.
That is a picture that stands for a thousand words. Allah see us as we can be, but loves us as we are. As Somalilanders, we believe that the two most powerful warriors are patience and time.
Be at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors and let every new year find you a better man. We must all believe that armed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in a human relationship. Remember ! You can’t make war in the Middle East without Egypt; or make peace without Syria. A rebellion to a freedom fighter is disobedience to Allah. Besides that, we must bear in mind that education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the World; and it is the key to unlock the golden door of freedom. It is the passport to the future, for tomorrow belongs to those who prepare for it today. And teaching is a very noble profession that shapes the character, caliber, and the future of individual . If the people could remember me as a good teacher, that will be the biggest honor for me. As a good teacher can inspire hope, ignite the imagination and instill a love of learning. The good teacher explains, the superior teacher demonstrates, the great teacher inspires. I have learned silence from the talkative, tolerance from the intolerant and kindness from the unkind.
Yet strangely enough, I am ungrateful to those teachers.
Dear reader, our logo for survival can be summed up in three words- Never give up. Wait and hope. That is the heart of it. Now I have to rewind and remind you the eulogy of our dead Heroes. Demonstrating those bitterest tears shed over their cheeks, and printed on their tombstone graves. Those sensitive, touching words and scream unsaid or not uttered before.
The deeds of maiming injuries and wounds that can be never healed again; the mass – graves. The bitter memories of those who have taken the love of our hearts and had put water in our veins. Those who raped, tortured, and chastised the modest mothers; and our chaste, virgin girls who were wearing the chastity – belt. The cracking sounds of the raped mothers, with tears trembling and running down their cheeks are still fixed in our memory. The scars and stains of that harsh Civil – War are still embedded in our hearts. Those who buried alive the innocent civilians after practiced on them all kinds of torture .
Those heartless, savage, and brutal human, wild beasts are showing now the Crocodile tears after we lost all that dear and gold . Having the intention to cover all the massacre and genocide they committed against our people. The looting and robbery of all personal belongings and commodities, house – holding and even the training – Toilet of the infants and babies. More disgusting, they were selling openly, those looted personal belongings and commodities publicly in their capital Mogadishu, in the awareness of the police -Force. They were also keeping as Sex – Slaves our innocent girls that had fled from Hargeisa to Mogadishu; assuming that they would be more safe in the capital of the country.
Dear reader, who does not understand your silence will probably not understand your words. Because when grief is deepest, words are fewest. We still remember, not only the bitter remarks and deeds of our enemies, but also the silence of our friends. Like our Brother – In – Law in the Banana Republic of Jibouti. Up to now, hearing the echoing of those racist and segregation remarks as well as recalling back in memory, that attitude of malice and hatred.
Intended to hinder, to discourage, to hurt, to humiliate, to break our hearts and make us humble and down. We were victims of both; pain of words and pain of action. Dear reader, a kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.
And that is how they are treating each other now, in Mogadishu and all other towns. What a crying Shame. Dear reader, it makes my stomach to grow sick when I see somebody from the Italian Colony saying, Somali Unity is sacred, unquestionable and intact. These heartless Italian – Mafia want us to unite with them again, and singing that old deceiving Song. ( Somaaliyaay Tooso, Tooso Isku Tiirsada ). Without showing the least sympathy or remorse. So that they steal again the paint of our eye’s – brows; and we experience the same ordeal again.
Peace and bless upon him our Prophet Mohamed said, a Moslem had never been bitten twice in the same hole. Because they have no heart and they are nothing but wild human beasts. Hell with your deceiving ill – songs. Mr. Jerk, when your Guitar of deception is strung and tuned to pith. It is no more sensational as before. Hell with your negative faith, and narcissistic attitude, Mr. chucklehead from Mogadishu. We must examine your voice. Does it come from your head or from your heart? We have grown up. Period! Not on my dead body ! The bruises are not healed and the blood is not dry yet. Enough is enough. You are an ill – omen and we have been bored and oppressed since we have got acquainted with you.
Goodbye with a ring and a kiss. That false dream of Great Somalia is gone with the wind. By now, it is a worthless currency like the Somali Shilling. Because it is in the wrong hands. The end justifies the means. We have no more room for that showy Nationalism of the Mafia of th e Italian Colony.
Dear reader, let me tell you that the originators of that busted, failed and false dream of Great Somalia was originated first in the Somali Ethiopian Sector, Jibouti, and Somaliland. The Somalis inhabitants of those regions have poured money and blood, and have sacrificed with bone and blood. To prove my argument with figures and facts.
You have to realize that all the victims for that cause were all from the above regions with the exception of Xawo Taako who has been shot with an arrow by the Somali pro – choice of the Italian Authority.
Sayid Mohamed Abdalla Hassan, Mohamoud Harbi, Mohamed Rashid Ali Gacanlow, Farah omaar, Sheekh Bashiir, Sultaan Af Waranle and Dulane Rafle.
I can bet with my last penny that there was no a single person from the Italian Colony, other than Xaawo Taako that had been a victim as a freedom fighter for the Somali Nationalism.
Secondly, with the exception of Hiran Region, Mudug, and Putland. All the inhabitants of all the other Regions have another language as their first Native language, other than the Somali language.
Above that, they have different and varied cultures, customs and traditions. That proves that they have come from varied sources and destinations. Don’t tell me that it is an accent. That is why they couldn’t sort out their difference and get along.
Secondly, the Siyad Bare Regime did nothing to them. When the Government collapsed; they had started to kill each other and looted one another. Because they have nothing in common.
To prove that, you can detect and observe the peaceful situations in Putland, Gal – Mudug and Hiran. All the other regions have settled their difference except the above mentioned Regions.
Because their Somali Nationalism is a fake and each one is a different, silly Cock crowing on his own dunghill. Above that, I was working in the Italian Colony since 1963, and I have never seen or encountered somebody with a spirit of Nationalism, with the exception of the deceased Prime Minister Abdirazak Haji Hussein, Abdirashid Ali Sharmarke , Mohamed Farah Aideed and Fathima Abdilaahi Dalays, the singer

Yusuf Deyr, Hargeisa, Somaliland Republic



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