Inagarre and the battle of Hobyo

[The_Emperior5]

siciido85

why are you so proud of this dark history, a Dabadhilif or slave helping his emancipator,

Muse farah igare was A true legend There is no dark History there is only Light history when we talk about muse farah igare

[Siciid85]

Sheikh_Farax, ma munafiiq baad tahay? what about your suldaan's boqor cusman maxamud, yusuf kenadid , ali yusuf kenadiid they were all saints miyaa? or dhabodhaliif the question is on you.

[abdisamad3]

Murax, you are the delusional 1 it was the armies from the british adminstration of somaliland also were known as somaliland camel corps consisting of mostly somaliland natives and punjab indian soldiers who were involved in the displacement and exiling of suldaan kenadiid and liberating hobyo, italians had nothing to do with this i think your mistaking him for boqor cusman maxamud that is the 1 that the italians displaced.


here it is Inagarre being head of the operation and also sent the sacads 10 thousand rifles and organized them.




"In the year 1921, an Issaq leader Haji Muse Igarre, brought the sacad over ten
thousand rifles, to help them fight against Suldan Yusuf Kenadiids kingdom."

..sxb even your own article says the british decided to remove suldaan kenaadid from the power..that means igarre was nothing but a shoe shiner who was just obeying the orders of his british master.. ..there is nothing to be proud of sxb..if I where you I would hide in shame..there is nothing worse then to be a dabadhilif and on top of that to be shoe shiner..thats a history of shame not pride.

[The_Emperior5]

How could a shoe shiner manage an entire army leading it and Have the Title Risaadlr, and Be the governer of a district in india Haji muse farah igare is a well known Figure in the history of somaliland
The Somaliland camel Corps Became later the Army The British Left in 1960 As the state of somaliland
How the hell do you think Somalia Got an army The italians left even the siyaad barre you Worship Was part of the italian Police

[Siciid85]

Abdisamad bin Munafiiiq foqol Munafiiq, He was head of the operation that took place in hobyo and kicked your uncles out of hobyo that is all that matters, and this is your so called majerteen suldaans begging the italians and sending them letters so don't call others dhabodhilif while you think your figures were perfect.



Suldaan Cali Yuusuf oo gaalo baryaya

Warqaddani ma ku soo xasuusinaysaa xaaladda maanta taagan ee ciidamada shisheeye lagu doonayo in lagu keeno Soomaaliya. Sida Cabdullahi Yuusuf maanta Xabashi u wato ayuu Suldaankii Hobyood ee Cali Yuusuf u ugu qayshanayey saancaddaalaha Talyaaniga si loogu kaalmeeyo hub uu ku qabsado Koonfurta Soomaaliya.

Bishii October 10keedii sannadkii 1892 ayaa Suldaankii Hobyood warqad u diray Filonerdi oo ahaa ninka dhisay xafiiskii Mustacmarada Talyaaniga ee Somalia[1]

"Waxan kugu wargelinaynaa in sannadakan aad na tuudheen waayo Doonyo nooma aysan imaanin sidii caadadu ahaan jidhey. Cidina weli nooma aysan keenin looxaantii, sidoo kalena ma haysanno wax raashin iyo rasaas ah. Sannadakan waxa dhacay dagaal qaraar. Dadka deegaankan saxaraha ahuna waa nagu mucaaradeen dagaal rag badan nalooga dilayna haddee waa dhacay.

Markii doonnidii Esfita ay baxday, waxaan rajaynayney in ruux dhankaaga ka imaan doono laakiin haddee illaa maanta ciduna ma aysan noo imaan. Taariikhda aan warqaddan qorahayo, Abu Bakr bin Cawad ayaa noo yimid oo noo keenay lacagtii aad na siin jidheen ee sannadka 1891. Waxan rajaynaynaa inaad nagu kaalmayn doontaaniin raashin iyo qalab dagaal waayo haddee badbaadadiinna ayaan ku jirnaa calankaagana waa harsanaynaa. Marka haddee u malayn mahayo inaa na illowdeen oo na tuudheen.

Hadda waxan ku naaloonaynaa imaatinkiinna iyo adinkoo wada waxaan idinka codsannay. Nimankan la yiraa Abu Bakr bin Cawad ayaa warka oo tifaftiran idin siinahaya. Waxaan rajaynaynaa inaad degdeg noo soo gaartaaniin sannadakan si aan wadar ahaan xaajadeenna u gudanno!

Haddee hadda waxan haynaa laba waddan: Hoybo iyo meesha la yiraa Ceel Huur, askar intii hore ka badanna waa haysanaaniin. Saaxiibbadeena la dilay waa 11. Doonteeniina oo ay alaabtannadii qaar saaran yihiinna sannadakan waxay ku jabtay Hobyo. Abaanoow lacag baan u baahnahay doonna hadde ma haysanno. Adigaa saaxiibkannaga ah mana ogin Masiixiyiin na gargaadha oon adiga ahayn, haddee calankaa kiinna ahna waa difaacnaa."

……………………………

On 10 October 1892 the Sultan of Obbia wrote to Filonardi, the architect of the Italian colonial administration in Somalia:

"We inform that this year we have been adandoned and there was no steamboat that has come to us, as it was the practice. Nobody has brought to us the woods and we have neither food nor cartridges. There was a serious war this year. The inhabitants of the desert have rebelled against us and there was a fighting in which some of ours have been killed.

After the departure of the steamboat Esfita we hoped some one would come from your side, but until now nobody came. On the date of this letter Abu Bakr bin Auad has arrived bringing to us the payment of the year 1891. We hope you will help us with food and the supply of war material, because we are under your protection and your flag. We would not think that you have abandoned us.

Now we wish your arrival together with what we have requested. ABu Bakr bin Auad will give full information. We hope you come soon this year to negotiate together.

Now we have two countries: Obia and Eil Hur and we have many soldiers different than before. Those of our friends killed are 11. Our saia (boat) has broken down this year at Obbia with some of our properties on board. We need money and we are without boat. You are our friend and we do not know other Christians besides you, and we defend your flag.”

[1] Mohamad Osman Omar, Somalia: Past and Present, pages 56 - 57

[Siciid85]

Abdisamad, Inagarre is more worth then the entire majerteen suldanaate which was build on haram money, weapons, pimping their daughters without dignity, atleast Inagarre never pimped his daughter to the colonials so know your place before i karbash you munafiiqyahow afka uraya.

[abdisamad3]

The suldaan wasnt a shoe shiner..like your uncle..and you allso need to post the link to what you wrote and we can discuss further..anyway why call me a munafaq..whats with the ´personal attack sxb..its true igarre was just obeying british masters order,.I dont even understand why your soo proud of some dabadhilif shoe polisher

[abdisamad3]

Abdisamad, Inagarre is more worth then the entire majerteen suldanaate which was build on haram money, weapons, pimping their daughters without dignity, atleast Inagarre never pimped his daughter to the colonials so know your place before i karbash you munafiiqyahow afka uraya.

..your pathetic reply just shows,.how inferior your to my people..you just being emotional and throwing around baseless accusations with nothing to back up with..marka maxaad karbaashi kartaa adaaba miskiin ah xagga allah ayaa lagaa karbaashay..

[The_Emperior5]

The suldaan wasnt a shoe shiner..like your uncle..and you allso need to post the link to what you wrote and we can discuss further..anyway why call me a munafaq..whats with the ´personal attack sxb..its true igarre was just obeying british masters order,.I dont even understand why your soo proud of some dabadhilif shoe polisher

Bring me one historical Proof Book Written by the colonialist even from a somali source that Muse farah igare was a shoe shiner there is not any Never ever did Col swayne Mentioned in his book so stop your Stupidh lies
No one ever went as low as your sultan Pimping His own daughter to Favor His Colonial Masters

[abdisamad3]

The first British officer to hunt the mullah and attempt to crush his insurgency was Lt. Col. Eric Swayne, a dashing fellow who had previously been on safari to Somaliland, hunting for elephant and rhino, kudu and buffalo. He was dispatched from India, and brought with him an enterprising Somali who had once worked as a bootblack polishing British footwear. Musa Farah would serve one British overlord after another. He would gain power, wealth, and influence beyond anything he could have imagined, including a sword of honor from King Edward VII.

http://www.newsweek.com/id/216509
what a shame...

[Siciid85]

Abdisamad, that is a lie here is the true biography of Musa garreh he was a policeman in adan.



˛Hajjı Müsa
Frah˛ (here called by the nickname of ‘Igarreh’), the most trusted
and highest ranking Somali official in the Protectorate administration,
on whom he, in other letters, often heaped scorn. Risaldar-
Major Müs Fra˛, had started his colonial career as a policeman
in Aden. He had joined the Protectorate staff as a member of the
mounted police and distinguished himself during the British expeditions
against the Sayyid. In 1906 he became a ‘native chief politician,
and in 1912 he became ‘Chief Native Assistant’, . For Jardine, Müs Fra˛ was the
Sayyid’s counterpart, as he was in the pro-government camp
what the Sayyid was in the anticolonial resistance movement.4


Jardine, Mad Mullah, 77-8, 311-12; Sheik-Abdi, Divine Madness, 186-7
and PRO CO 535, vol. 42.


"A remarkable somali , Risaaldr Major Haji Musa Farah led a Somali army of 450 rifles a hundred mile across the Waterless Haud, picking up some five thousand local tribesmen on his way, attacking the Dervish camps and capturing several thousand camels and Sheep. This triumph was a blow to the sayyid, as his forces moved always with their families and depended on their livestock meat and milk."

[The_Emperior5]

The first British officer to hunt the mullah and attempt to crush his insurgency was Lt. Col. Eric Swayne, a dashing fellow who had previously been on safari to Somaliland, hunting for elephant and rhino, kudu and buffalo. He was dispatched from India, and brought with him an enterprising Somali who had once worked as a bootblack polishing British footwear. Musa Farah would serve one British overlord after another. He would gain power, wealth, and influence beyond anything he could have imagined, including a sword of honor from King Edward VII.

http://www.newsweek.com/id/216509
what a shame...

News week written by who A Kid wrote an article 2009 I can write an article, on what does he base it what historical books zero nada ma jirto
no source he cant back it up

[abdisamad3]

The suldaan wasnt a shoe shiner..like your uncle..and you allso need to post the link to what you wrote and we can discuss further..anyway why call me a munafaq..whats with the ´personal attack sxb..its true igarre was just obeying british masters order,.I dont even understand why your soo proud of some dabadhilif shoe polisher

Bring me one historical Proof Book Written by the colonialist even from a somali source that Muse farah igare was a shoe shiner there is not any Never ever did Col swayne Mentioned in his book so stop your Stupidh lies
No one ever went as low as your sultan Pimping His own daughter to Favor His Colonial Masters

no mj sultan have ever done this its just pathetic lies and nothing but propaganda.. you guys glorifying the a british dabadhilif shows you have nothing no history you can look up and be proud of so you desperatly hang on every little thing you can find about your forfathers and try to over glorify it..just like a true inferior slave..

[abdisamad3]

The first British officer to hunt the mullah and attempt to crush his insurgency was Lt. Col. Eric Swayne, a dashing fellow who had previously been on safari to Somaliland, hunting for elephant and rhino, kudu and buffalo. He was dispatched from India, and brought with him an enterprising Somali who had once worked as a bootblack polishing British footwear. Musa Farah would serve one British overlord after another. He would gain power, wealth, and influence beyond anything he could have imagined, including a sword of honor from King Edward VII.

http://www.newsweek.com/id/216509
what a shame...

News week written by who A Kid wrote an article 2009 I can write an article, on what does he base it what historical books zero nada ma jirto
no source he cant back it up

sxb closing your eyes and wishing your history to disapear will not get you anywhere.. this your uncle's history he was just obeying orders from the british master he was a good slave..

[Siciid85]

Abdisamad, your suldaan's daughter getting pimped and abused by james douglas, your suldaan gave her to the colonials no suldaan in somali history has ever done that, wa dhaqan gooniimo.



Amina Daughter of Boqor Maxamed Boqor Cusmaan iyo Jeycalkeedii Gaalkii Douglas Collin 1944.
Sawir Gacmeed u Douglas Collin ku cabiray Amina Boqor Maxamed Boqor Cusmaan





Amiina herself broke the spell by whispering, 'War, Abdi Melik, awa wa addo' (Oh, how the moon shines), and then kissing me passionately,'Oh my God, I love thee'. Drunk with happiness, I replied with a long, slow kiss, 'I love thee too, Amiina'.he brilliant moon now riding high above bathed us both in her friendly light. Drawing my lungi over us we slept, lulled to sleep by the trade winds whispering in the palms, and the incessant breaking of the surf.All too soon from the Suacron fishing village behind us a cock-crowheralded the false dawn and Amiina stirred sleepily in my arms. 'Abdi Melik,' she whispered, 'I si, I si' (give me, give me). Her lips parted and her kisses infused me with a passion more than I could bear, soon, too soon to be extinguished as love itself rested. Urgently now the cock crowed its strident reveille again. The sun's first blush peeped above the sea. Pulling Amiina protestingly to her feet I stripped in a second whilst she disrobed, letting fall her shift as she looked shyly at me, a bronze aphrodite. Hand in hand we ran to the sea, splashing through the shallows and surf, then swimming on to a wrecked dhow where we rested, panting with exhilaration and laughing with the joy of being young and in love. 'Ahalki an tagno' (let us return), I smiled at her. 'Edinku sidas shada, eg! wainu ta-gaina' (Say ye so? lo, we go), she laughed, diving in the shining waves and heading for the beach.We dressed quickly and ran up to the house, past the astonished sentry, who gave me a belated butt salute as we went by, and so began my love affair with Amiina.
===================
During these ecstatic nights I would teach her English, giving her simple exercises to do whilst I worked in the office by day. From Amiina I learnt much of the folk-lore of the Somalis; that the legendary figures of the Somali race, Darod and Isshak, came from Arabia, and she herself claimed to be able to trace her ancestry to these Arabian aristocrats. Amiina possessed all the physical beauty rhapsodied by the younger set of advanced Somali poets in their short love-poems, the 'belwo'. A poet will often write some of his best 'belwo' to an un-approachable beauty knowing that his love for her is hopeless—perhaps because of his financial standing or because of his inferior tribe. He would base his romantic love on the curve of a breast or the nicker of an eyelash.These Somali love-poems are mostly of physical love, passionate and sincere. It is not done to use vulgar expressions, thereby offending public taste. It must be remembered that poetry requires no special materials nor carrying space other than the talent of the composer, which is carried in his memory. Since the Somali is continually moving his tents in the search for grazing and water this is important, for he must carry as little equipment as possible on his burden camels. Also poetry costs nothing —quite a factor to the nomadic Somali in his insecure and poor life. Generally, marriages are not undertaken lightly by Somalis and are mostly arranged Vy the parents with a view to mutual financial advantages. . The arrangements are complex and are decided upon by the man con¬cerned, the girl's father and also the tribal Akils or elders. Much must be arranged and then settled; the bride-price ('yarad'), the token payment made ('gabati) by the man on his engagement and the percentage ne has to find of his estate, the 'mehr', which is made out to his wife on marriage. A dowry, or ('dibat') is given to the couple by the bride's family. Usually the girl before marriage is gentle and very beautiful, but after marriage, like her European sister, she generally develops into a shrew, becoming irritable and a nagger. The reason for this is that her position is caused by economic necessity as well as tradition. Her status is decidedly inferior to that of man. For this reason I think many Somali women prefer European amourettes, for unlike the Somali, who if he treated his wife with unusual thoughtfuhiess, would be laughed at by the rest of his tribe, the European would show her that kindness and consideration he normally shows to his own women, to which the Somali girl is unaccustomed. And so it was with Amiina and myself, for in my love-making I showed her all the gentle intimacies of love without the lustful passion she alone would have known otherwise.
During the long evenings I took delight in composing poems to her, as close to the Somali 'balwo' as I could get, and in one of them I described her charms:
================================
'As lovely as a dhow at sea
Thy young beauty is to rne, Tall, with all the gerenuk's grace,
A daughter of the Darod race.
Black hair, fine as gossamer thread, Eyes that speak of things unsaid High cheek-bones with straight nose On thy mouth—the desert rose.
God was with him and in the morning when he awoke, the dry bones were covered with meat. The next night he left the bones again in the cave and in the morning they were clad with flesh. 'He lived thus for many weeks. 'Then it came to pass that one day he saw a girl with her flocks. He went to meet her and she told him her name was Donbirro, and she was the daughter of Dir, the son of Irrir, and lived in a near-by village. Darod asked her if she would like him to water the flocks for her and she replied that this was impossible since the nearest well was many days' walk away. Then Darod took her sheep and goats and watered them at his own well. Donbirro came every day to the place where Darod lived. Every day she gave him milk from the sheep and goats of her flock and every day Darod watered the flocks at his well, Donbirro was a beautiful girl, tall and of good bearing, with soft and lovely features. Darod fell in love with her and wanted her for his wife.'But one day Donbirro's father grew curious and asked the girl why the flocks would not take water when they returned to the village. Donbirro did not reply.
The next day, therefore, Dir, the father of Donbirro, set out with a young man from the tribe to follow the girl when she went out with the flocks. When they found Donbirro she was talking with Darod, near the well, and the flocks having been watered, were resting near by. When Darod saw the two men he feared for his life, and climbed a huge tree that stood close by the well, having first covered the mouth of the well with a large flat stone. That tree is known as "Lanta Ful" (the branch he climbed) and is standing even now.
==========================






The father of Donbirro approached with the other man of the tribe, and when they saw the girl and Darod, they were very angry. Then they saw the well, and the flocks resting, and they coveted the well for the use of their tribe, and wished to take it away from Darod. 'The two men strove to take away the stone from the well, but Darod was beloved of God and they could not move it. Then they called for Darod to come down from the tree, but Darod, knowing they meant him evil, refused. 'Finally, Dir, the father of Donbirro, asked Darod what price he would take to come down from the tree and remove the heavy stone from the well, so that the tribe might use the water. Darod replied that he would come down and remove the stone and give the well to the tribe for their own use, if Dir, the father of Donbirro, would let him marry the girl. 'Then the father of Donbirro told Darod he might have the girl, and so Darod consented to descend from the tree. But Darod told the two men that if he jumped he would break his bones. Therefore he asked the men to come and stand beneath the tree so that he might step down on their shoulders. The one man, proud and haughty, refused, but Dir, who was the head of the tribe, came and stood beneath the tree, and Darod stepped on his shoulders and came down to the ground, and that was a sign of peace between them.'And Darod approached the well, where lay the flat stone which the two men could not move, and he kicked it away lightly with one foot. And the tribesmen were amazed.
========================
'Then Darod married Donbirro, and from her he had five sons, and Darod lived out his life in our land and from him are descended my father, Mohamed Boghor, and many other great men. And the tribes of Darod are the Warsangeli, the Dolbahanta, the Isman Mohamed of the Mijjer-tein, the Ogaden, and the Bartire.
'And Darod was beloved of God, and had great wisdom, and lived the life of a Muslim. He went among the people and spoke to them the words of the Prophet (upon whose name be praise) and turned away from our idols, and towards Allah, the Merciful, the Compassionate.' Amiina, her story told, lay back and I kissed her. Later that evening, under a full moon, she danced for me the butterfly dance of the Mijjertein Somalis. But this night of enchantment was marred by the first whisperings of doubt in my mind, for she then brought up the vexed question of the date gardens at Ghesseli, passionately declaring that the Isman Mohamed were the rightful owners and not the despised Midgans. She angrily resisted my advances when I would not agree. We returned to Alula, both angry, and the doubt and suspicion grew until like the kherif outside, they screamed through my tortured mind that my love meant nothing to her, that she really loved Sheik Abdurraham Mursal's son and that she was just a tool of her father, the Sultan, and was merely pretending a love of make-believe in order to further the ends of her tribe.
============================
Night after night she persisted in her impassioned pleas, first coaxing and then furiously demanding that the date gardens be returned to the Isman Mohamed, and night after night I wearily resisted her blandish¬ments. There was no more love-making between us for she no longer spoke the intimate little endearments I wished to hear, and withheld from me her bewitching body for which I craved. One hot tropical night the end came suddenly with a violence which appalled me. Mouthing obscenities she screamed abuse in Somali at me. Her eyes went mad. She called me a 'waraba', a hermaphroditical dog. Inher violence she picked up a heavy steel ash-tray, hurling it at me and cutting my forehead.The warm blood flowed and mingled with the bitterness on my lips. I struck her—hard on the face with my open hand. She reeled across the room, her eyes extended with shock. Tears then flowed and she ran sobbing from the room, away into the empty night. What is love, I thought bitterly? That elusive something one tries to pluck out of the heavens with clutching hands and eager heart. Is it happiness? Ah! No! A little happiness, yes, during those all too brief ecstatic moments soon to be dispelled by long, weary, agonising hours of unhappiness, and then the hell of hate, for where does love begin and hate finish? Then comes the sword of jealousy—long and silvered. It bites through the breast. Not in one long, clean, quick thrust, but slowly questing as though doubting that awful finality. Reaching the heart it probes gently and its tip is withdrawn with just a touch of crimson. A thousand times it touches the target of love and then with one heart¬rending, final thrust it goes home and the blade is withdrawn fully crimsoned to the hilt.
===============================
The heart is no more. There is no more love. Nothing to love with.
The months passed slowly now and I was in an agony to hear news of the war. I sent a letter to headquarters in Mogadishu requesting a relief so that I might be relieved and sent to a more active sphere. There was no answer.
My gramophone records had long since worn out and I had not had a drink for months. I brewed a kind of'grappa' from dates and added army ration plum jam, which turned it into a poisonous liqueur, but in the evenings its potency aided sleep. I could feel the utter loneliness closing in on me. I grew irritable when I found sand in the sugar although I had been used to it for almost a year now. I cursed Yusuf when I found him helping himself to a spoonful of my army plum jam. My last tin. A month later the long-awaited mail came up by diesel with the good news that I was to be relieved at last. The colonel himself was to visit Alula, bringing my relief up with him. The days and weeks went by monotonously. The nights were lonely without Amiina. I missed her laughter, her tantrums and her tears, but above all I missed her bewitching body with a longing that must remain unassuaged. A plume of dust over the sand dunes heralded the arrival of the colonel's convoy withmysuccessor, Keith. I saluted and shookhands with them both.
146
=========================
'Well, Collins, you've had a long spell here,' said the colonel conver¬sationally. 'Are you fit?' He looked sharply at me.
I nodded dumbly and ushered them to the house. Haji Dif fussed around, shaking hands with his escort.
The guard commander turned out the guard and presented arms. He inspected them. Minutely. Each man stiffened to attention and gazed rigidly to his front. Gendarme Ali Jama had the top button of his tunic undone. The colonel flicked at the offending button-hole with his cane.
'Do it up,' he said.
Ali Jama quivered with fright, endeavoured to right the frightful enormity with fumbling fingers, then dropped his rifle.
'Pick it up,' rasped the colonel. I blushed.
'Dismiss the guard,' he ordered. I marched to their front, right-turned and stood to attention.
'Guard dis miss,' I shouted.
The guard commander and three men turned sharply to their right. Ali Jama turned to the left. Chaos.
'As you were,' I roared. 'Guard dis miss.' They marched off.
We had lunch. The colonel and Keith made small talk, I remained silent. After weeks of waiting for this moment I now resented their presence. I wanted to be alone again.
Kit inspection followed. There were eight spoons missing.
'Haji Dif,' called the colonel, 'ask these askaris where their spoons are.' The askaris remained silent.
'My fault, sir,' I mumbled. 'I borrowed them for tunny bait.' The colonel cocked a quizzical eyebrow at me.
I focused my eyes mesmerically on the red band encircling his cap. Keith sniggered.
'You did what?' snapped the colonel. I found my tongue at last and explained in great detail how a spinning spoon would attract tunny better than live bait. He was no Isaak Walton fan and was not amused.
'The hospital,' he said. We inspected it.
'The lines,' he said. We inspected them.
"The latrines,' he said. We inspected them. They smelt.
'The armoury,' he said. We inspected it. In a corner stood half a dozen spare carbines with bayonets attached. A spider had built an intricately laced web festooning the bayonet points. 'Pretty, sir,' I remarked lamely as he poked the web to pieces with his cane.
'The jail,' he said. I sweated.
147: end.

A Tear For Somalia
By Douglas Collins
end.