The phone call

[Lillaahiya]

Get to the goddamn convo already!

Chop chop sxb.

[kambuli]

Thanks huuno This is a good read, it took me back to life in Somalia and the present one in abroad..

Allaa Tuubbo is one of the funniest phrases...I remember when we used to sing (Gabley Shimbir):

Allaa tubboo, waa urtee yaa oroosaayo,
Askar askar, ma aqaanee ul ii keena,
Inantu waa Alla tubbee ayuuteeye,
Gabley shimbir taan galayney gadaal joogso

[Jaidi]

Lama you do have a writing style similar to Nurudin Farah. If you aren't the writer himself, you are influenced by his novels

[BlackVelvet]

I am enjoying this. Please keep them coming and don't rush to the end

[Lamagoodle]

DafiyoMiriq, Kambuli, Jaidi and Jasmine; thanks alot for your encouragement.


CHAPTER V; repressed memories

Tomorrow- Allah willing- I will call Jamiilo, Jeele said to himself. He will ask her many questions that were bothering him.

He will ask her about Muqdisho, about friends, about foes and much more.

Half asleep, Jeele played a youtube playlist of Somali songs; qaraami songs and patriotic songs from the period when Somalia was a feared nation and sat on his soffa.

Jeele remembered places, people and events in his own life. As a Somali man he was brought up to never show emotions; only nacas cried. Only softies cried. Only girls cried.

But, the events of the last three days have been exceptional. For the last 20 0r so years, he had intentionally repressed that part of his life which evolved around the rape of his nation. He went into mental and physical hibernation at the end of 1991 when he received the tragic news that had befallen his people.

Jeele was in the final phase of his graduate studies when early one morning, in September, he received news of the death of his brother, Daqare, who was a pilot in the Somali air force. in a phone call that lasted a minute, he was informed by a voice at the end that Daqare was killed in Jalalaqsi by unkown gun men.

Daqare was a MIG 17 fighter and was trained in the Ukraine, Iraq and Egypt. He was based in Beled-dowla which is located around 30 KM north of Daafeed(Wanla weyn). He had married Muxubo from Yaaq Bari weyne which was a few kilometres to the North of Beled Dawla which was probably the largest air force base in Somalia.

Daqare although a diehard communist and nationalist ( he designed and was instrumental in executing the capture of Godey in June 1977) became a critique of the regime: his anger started when the Somali army was forced out of Somali Galbeed by the Ethiopians, Cubans, Yemens, Libyians and the Warsaw pact. He could not accept defeat and started agitating the regime using Marxism dialectics. As a true believer of the religion of communism, he thought public criticism of the regime will lead to its fall or at least change of trajectory. He was court marshalled, dishonourably discharged and sent to the infamous Labaatan jirow prison where rehabilitation was provided.

Daqare was granted presidential pardon in 1987 after almost 7 years in prison.

He then settled in Jalalaqsi where he worked for UNHCR. Jalalaqsi and Luuq Ganaane were two towns that hosted Somali and Somali Abo refugees. The choice of these towns was sensible; Both of them were located on the banks of the rivers Jubba and Shabeele respectively. They were not border towns like Doolo and Beledweyne and as such did not risk Ethiopian military boots (later on when Somalia’s military capability diminished both towns were bombed by Ethiopian fighter bombers).

The Jalalaqsi and Luuq refugee camps were properly organised and were based on experiences gained from the 1970s draught ( Abaarti dabadheer; long tail draught) which resulted in the death of livestock and people in the semi-arid regions north of Beledweyne. Through coordinated measures, hundreds of thousands were airlifted to the lower shabeele region; Kuntur waarey, Dujuma, Ceel Jaale etc became the new homes of the affected Somalis.

The reaction to the long-tail draught could be described as pan-somalism at work; people as far away as Ceynabo, Buuhoodle, Kooyaame, Ceel Afweyne, etc were airlifted to coastal and agrarian areas. It was all about changing the fabrics of Somali society (at least in the discourse). It was about ensuring that the nomads learned new trades (fishing, agriculture etc). Crash programmes were initiated so that they could feed themselves.

The refugee camp Daqare worked in was not like Dujuma, Kuntur Waarey and the areas that became host to nomadic communities. While the victims of the Long-tail draught were given plots of land to cultivate or fish gear to fish, the refugees of the Somali Galbeed war were housed in tents; the government used the presence of these refugees as a “public relations” instrument to pressure the end of Ethiopian aggression.

There were many competing narratives regarding the manner of Daqare’s death and who was responsible. Some claimed it was government forces while others claimed it was the rebels. But, it mattered little to Jeele. He lost a brother and later on his identity.

Somalia and Somalis were not that known in Europe during the late 1980s and early 1990s. The BBC, CNN and Deutsche Welle never reported much about Somalia. So, when there was some news about Somalia or somalis, it was not unusual for somalis in Europe to call each other and give the news that there is a newsreel about Somalia. In other words, the mere mention of Somali in the European media became the day’s/ week’s news amongst the somalis.

Telephone communication to and from Somalia were terrible; if you wanted to call someone in Mogadishu, it will take you hours before you are connected and it was very common that you are disconnected within in a matter of seconds.

Calling from Somalia was even worse. You had to queue for many hours at the ministry of Post and Telecommunications. If you were successful, you could get two minutes of “hello, ma i maqleeydaa?” “ yaa waayee?” .

So, when someone called from Muqdisho and informed Jeele about the death of Daqare, the information was scanty. No mention of who killed him, where he died and if the guilty had been caught.

Jeele tried to call Somalia many times but in vain.

He called contacts in Germany to enquire about the situation in Somalia but all he received were different perspectives on the conflict.

As the cliché goes, the first victim of war is truth. No news about his family, friends, his xaafad and country.

Three months later, he reads in the International Herald Tribune that Mogadishu is burning.

He tried to call Muqdisho but it was the same old story; no connections.

In 1992, he receives a call from a distant cousin in Saudi Arabia who informs that his parents, siblings, cousins and relatives might have died in Muqdisho as a result of constant bombardments in the area.

Jeele repressed everything.

He was angry at everyone. His faith was tested. The young idealist for a brief time took Jägermeister as his friend.

Jeele needed to seek help but how? He knew something was wrong with him. He was talking to himself and and was showing signs of aggression to girlfriends and almost everyone he knew.

He started talking to himself . His hygiene was deteriorating.

In the Somali context, you are either sane or insane. Mental patients are treated with disdain; it was a taboo. The worst taboo that is second to incest.

The best antidote for mental diseases was “duca” that was often concluded with afar faataxo. He does not need afar faataaxo, mara quraan and other religious therapeutic activities. He was sane.

His few remaining German friends urged him to seek medical help. “Visit a psychologist” they suggest and get some therapy for trauma. To Jeele, despite years of education, there was no difference between a psychologist and a physiatrist!

In the absence of an understanding for concepts such as “ trauma” he insisted that he was not “mad”.

How can he be mad? He asked himself. He was not going naked in cities. He was not knife stabbing strangers. He was not mad! He was sane and any talk about “therapy” was nonsense.

He was not Labo-Mire (bipolar).

Jeele cut all contacts with Somalia and Somalis. He changed his phone number and for almost a decade lived a life of seclusion.

He assumed that almost all the people he knew back in Somalia including his parents were dead.

There was no point in searching for information about the obvious he rationalised.

It is time to move on. To become a new person. Forget about Somalia and Somalis. Forget about idealism about a strong nation.

He ran into some Somalis but he realised that the tone of conversations had changed. It was no longer about people sharing a dream of going back, building a strong nation or talking about a great history and people that dominated the chats. It was instead tribalism and blame game.

When Jeele left Muqdisho, tribalism was not an issue. In fact, he did not know the tribes of many of his friends. He did not know much about his purported tribe. If someone talked about tribalism in his neighbourhood he was mocked; called reer baadiyo which was perhaps the worst kind of bullying.

He found conversing with Somalis peculiar. He appeared to live in a past characterised by good memories while they were painting a picture of an apocalyptic Somalia where tribalism reigned.

Then, in 1998, something happened. He received a phone call from his mom. Somalis are detectives and whether you hide it or not your phone details will be known.

He heard a woman hysterically uttering “Hooyo, hooyo ma Jeelaa?”.

“Haa hooyo” “ hooyo macaan” “ hooyo macaan” “hooyo” “hooyoy” he replied. Suddenly, he was a toddler!

They cried and comforted each other for over 3 minutes.

A mother's child. Poor baby. He was suddenly a 2 year old boy, standing naked in the rain.

“Hooyo aabe aaway?” he asked bravely.

Aabe wuu noolyahay. Soomaaliya ayuu joogaa oo reerka kale ayuu la joogaa, she said.

Adiga inteed joogtaa?

Neyroobi, Islii hooyo.

The family left Muqdisho in 1995 and came to Eastleigh- a sprawling suburb in Nairobi. He was informed that they had settled in Section 3. The family had started a wholesale business in Garissa lodge and everyone was doing fine.

His dad had left for Somalia where he married a second wife.

Hooyo, adiga ma aroostay? Caruur ma leedahay? She asked.

He did not find the right kind of words for “living together” “dating” etc so he said “maya hooyo, weli ma aroosin, caruurna ma lihi”.

In the normal circumstances, such nonsense – a man approaching his 30s, without a wife (ves) or kids would have been met with “ maxaad la aroosi weyday?” “waad na ceebeysay” or even worse “ma waxbaa si kaa ah?” but, this was not a normal conversation.

This was the first conversation they had for a decade. Questions will come later but it is time to cherish the moment.

“Hooyo, ma tukutaa?” she surprising asked when the emotions finally stopped. Several of her friends her told that Somalis
in Europe had abandoned their religion. When Jeele did not call them during the 1990s many assumed that he had become “ gaal”.

The notion that her son could be among the thousands of Somalis in Europe, who reportedly turned their backs on islam disturbed her. All these years the conception that her son does not pray bothered her more than anything else did.

“ Hooyo, maxaa dhacay?” haa waan tukadaa” he replied to calm her down. Although his family was liberal back home in Somalia, praying was an institutions; even alcoholics, prostitutes, Marxists, atheists prayed because it was part and parcel of the daily routine.

He looked at his watch and it was past midnight. Tomorrow will be the day he will call Jamiila he told himself…

He went to bed and started dreaming….

[InaSamaale]

I'm so late. I just read chapter 1. Pretty good.

[Lamagoodle]

I'm so late. I just read chapter 1. Pretty good.

InaSamaale, read all of it and give me your review. I am so encouraged by the positive feedback that I am thinking of publishing it. I will need an agent in the "second city" (Melbourne)

[AbkoowDhiblaawe]

keep it coming Lama

[SecretAgent]

Ur much better then nuurdiin farah ur stories should be studied in somalia schools to learn more bout der culture

[Lamagoodle]

Ur much better then nuurdiin farah ur stories should be studied in somalia schools to learn more bout der culture

Thank you nephew.

Warsheek, mahadsanid. Don't forget to tune in sometime next week! the setting will be Sverige

[AbkoowDhiblaawe]

lol looking forward to it.

[Rabshoole]

one of the best stories I've read since I've been here, thx for the read sxb.

[Lillaahiya]

Hurry

[Ismail87]

Wow Lamagoodle I like this part better than all the other parts walee.

[InaSamaale]

I'm so late. I just read chapter 1. Pretty good.

InaSamaale, read all of it and give me your review. I am so encouraged by the positive feedback that I am thinking of publishing it. I will need an agent in the "second city" (Melbourne)

Go for it, I got covered you bro.

Read 2, 3, & 4 in one go. I really enjoyed it, loved how you are able to capture 1980s Somalia, almost as if I'm experiencing such utopia. Can't wait for the next part.