The death of Weli from Ceel Afweyne

[Lamagoodle]

The tenants of the high-rise building have been complaining for over a month. They called the property owner, the local council in vain.

They called to complain about the horrible smell coming from one of the apartments.

Usually in this country, neighbours do not know each other that well. It is not like Africa or the Middle East where neighbours invite each other to have a cup of tea or dinner. Where people knock on your door to borrow salt.

In this country, there are only two spaces where neighbours might interact; the laundry and in the lifts. The laundry is always a place of conflicts and studies have identified it as the most likely crime scene in a country where the top news is the death of a wolf. Keeping laundry time/schedule/slots and ensuring that that the laundry is clean after washing might earn you a smile from a neighbour. On the other hand, not keeping the laundry clean or not keeping time, will earn you the wrath of your neighbours and might be the prelude to eviction from your apartment.

Who needs neighbours (and people) when the state provides you with everything you might need?

Disparagingly, it might be argued that the main cursor for social interactions and for networking is poverty. Poor people seek each others's help. Rich people shun help-

The other venue for interactions is the lifts. Here, usually the exchange might only involve the mutual “ hej”. More than that is tantamount to intrusion of privacy.

Thus, there is always a deafening silence in the neighbourhood. However, on a bright January Sunday morning, this muteness was broken by the sounds of police and ambulance sirens.

Typically, neighbours will watch the upheaval through the comfort of their windows. However, since it was a Sunday, there were some inquisitive kids from the neighbourhood in the playground a few meters and when the police and ambulance services arrived, the only spectators were kids. Among them were two Somali boys who lived in an apartment building in the estate.

After a few minutes, a body wrapped in black plastic bags was brought out.

The police initiated the tenacious task of identifying the body. With notebooks in hands, they knocked on doors and spoke to people in the neighbourhood.

Many of the neighbours gave the usual “ I have no idea” in contrast to the waan-daadshe mentality prevalent among Somalis.

Meanwhile, the two Somali kids informed their parents about the body in the black plastic bag, and before long, all the Somalis who lived on the estate gathered at the scene.

Who was the person in the bag? Was it a man? A woman? Murdered? Was he an immigrant?

Linda, one of the tenants in the high-rise building left her apartment to inform the curious people outside the building that the deceased was a man, an African, probably from Somalia who has been living in the building for five years.

“ I don’t know the guy, I met him once, and he told me came from Somalia 20 years ago” she told the crowd hoping that they will leave the entrance.

“Somali? Somali? “ asked Halimo and Samsam in synchronised bewilderment .

Yes, replied Linda and pointed to a board with the names of tenants in the entrance hall.

Samsam and Halima looked at the board hoping to find a Somali name. Samsam pointed to a name “Mohamed Awale” and shouted “Alla waa soomaali” “ ilahoow u naxriiso”

Linda mentioned that she and the other occupants in the building had been calling the proprietor for months to inform them about the horrible smell coming from the apartment, but no one cared.

The property-owner – the local council- did not take action because the rent was always paid in time.

As is the norm, tenants could instruct their banks to pay the proprietor through direct debit.

As long as the rent was paid in time, there was no reason for the property owner to go into an apartment. That is what matters.

Odour is not enough of a reason.

Samsam and Halimo initiated a detective work to find who the deceased was.

News spreads like wildfire in the Somali community and within 3 hours every Somali in the town knew who the deceased was:

Weli, a 50 year old man.

The rumour mills were working overtime and before long they established that Weli was an alcoholic who seldom interacted with Somalis.

His real name was Cawaale Maxamed Meygaag but few knew it.

Cawaale was born in the town of Ceel Afweyne, the main town between Cerigaabo and the town of Oog on the Muqdisho-Burco highway .

Ceel Afweyne was under developed before the civil war in Somalia. It was not that strategically important and it was overshadowed by Cerigaabo and Burco.

Ceeri gaabo is probably the only place in Somalia where there is some snowfall; it is also the home of fresh fruits and because of its proximity to the deep water habours of Xiis and Meydh- which are inhospitable,- Cerigaabo got a reputation for being the winter capital of that region.

On the western side of Cerigaabo is Burco, the gateway to the Haud and the seat of higher education institution; sheikh. It is claimed that more sheikhs are buried in Sheikh than the whole of Somali territory north of Xamar.

Cawaale’s parents were nomads who roamed the landscape of Sanaag and Togdheer. He was the first born of the family and 7 years after his birth, the family decided that he should get a good education. Young Cawaale was placed with his aunt, Cambaro in Burco who worked at the local district commissioner’s office . Nicknamed Cambaro DC because she worked at the DC’s office, Cambaro was a tough- no nonsense single mother who ruled her household with iron fist. She discovered the importance of education and wanted all her relatives and children to get a good education.

Young Cawaale was very bright. He completed Juz Cama within two months. Because of this feat, he was nicknamed Weli (saint). When he was 10 years, Weli was admitted to the prestigious sheikh boarding school in Sheikh where he exhaled.

For people from this part of Somalia, the options on the choice of university were limited. If you wanted to study at a university, Mogadishu was the place to go to; it was either Gaheyr or Lafoole on the highway between Afgooye and Xamar.
At the age of 18, Weli was admitted to Lafooye teacher’s training college.

The village of Lafoole was also the location for a children’s orphanage; Ubaxii Kacaanka and a few kilometres in the direction of Afgooye – in the lowlands- were government owned plantations where Ethiopian prisoners of war toiled the soil.

At Lafoole teachers’ training college, Cawaale who by now was called Weli by everyone exhaled. He was almost like a native speaker of the English language. He was top of his class and after four years of studies, he got a scholarship to study pedagogics at Manchester University.

He visited his folks after returning from the UK. By now, the village of Ceel Afweyne had changed. A few years ago, it was probably the most inhospitable town in Somalia; the presence of deadly mosquitoes, ubiquitous salty water and a poor infrastructure had contributed to outward migrations to Burco and Cerigaabo.

The inhospitable milieu of Ceel Afweyne was on young Cawaale’s mind as long as he remembered. When he was in Manchester, he got in touch with various organisations in the hope that they will drill a water well because deep down, he knew there was fresh water.

After completing his fellowship, Cawaale was posted to Baydhabo janaay to teach English. But, before he signed his tenure, he was determined to dig the well; so, he sent a letter to the British Embassy in Mogadishu asking for help in the matter.

In his letter, Cawaale stated that he studied in Manchester where he had been in touch with NGOs. He outlined a plan of action for eradicating poverty and improve the health standards of the nomads in the region.

Within a few months, a local charity in Manchester promised to drill three wells.

Meanwhile in Baydhabo, Weli became the most respected teachers in the secondary school near Isha Baydhabo. The school was started in the beginning of the 20th centuries by Italian missionaries and produced some of the best minds from the region.

As the only secondary school in the whole of Alta jubba ( upper jubba), the school enrolled students from present day Gedo, Bay and Bakool. It was taken over by the government in the beginning of the 1970s.

Cawaale was loved by his pupils, co-workers and parents.

In 1991, he was offered yet another 6-month fellowship to study pedagogics in the UK. On completion, he found himself without a country. Somalia was in a state of chaos.

He went to Sweden to visit friends. He met Fartuun, a middle-aged secular woman who introduced to the bourgeois lifestyle. Partying, wining and drinking.

The bourgeois class although politically undermined and subdued by the social democrats who had been ruling this country for decades, still kept some of their traditions, including holding dinners with sophisticated table manners and weird dances ended by a sip of expensive liquor.

Within a few months, Weli was hooked to the bottle; it became his companion at a time when his nation was falling apart. He used the brandy to kill thoughts about his nation, the whiskey to create liver cirrhosis and the wine to hit on middle-aged women.

A year later, Fartun asked him to hit the road because he was ruining her reputation as the princess of merrymakings and Weli ended on the streets of the capital. He became the subject of ridicules by Somalis but there were a few goodhearted ones who wanted to him.

Among the good-hearted people who met and decided to help was Amina. She was a married mother of six who lived in another town. They bonded from day one because they had a lot in common. They could chat about the good old days in Somalia. Amina was a reformed drinker who used to hit the bars in Mogadishu and as such understood the problems of inebriation.

She came to the central station a few months with the sole purpose of helping Weli. After hours of discussions, she promised to take him to her town and help him give up the bottle.

As is common with addicts, he wanted to quit although that is always easier said than done. But, he decided to give it a try. She promised him that she will introduce him to a religious woman in her town.

Amina and Weli came to the small town. She bought him clothes and introduced him to her husband – a religious guy and before long he was hitting the mosque to pray every rakah. She also introduced him to Fahima, a hijabified woman who against the conventional wisdom was single despite being in her thirties.

A week or so after the meeting they were married and Weli was in a feel good mood. There was little to talk about in the apartment because every sentence was ended with “ ilaahey ha na soo hanuuniyo”.

Weli remained dry for two years. He had started putting on some weight and was regaining his standing in society; he grew a beard and even carried a tusbax although Fahima always mentioned that it was “bidca”- innovation. By now, several Somalis were calling his Sheikh Weli.

One summer day, Weli’s life changed. He was in town to watch a game of football in a local pub. Usually, he ordered soft drinks but on this particular day, he ordered a drink. Bad habits don’t die easily. He went to the local liquor store and bought a 12 year old Glenfiddich. He took a few sips from the bottle and put the bottle under the bed.

He told himself that this is a temporary lapse and he will insha allah throw the bottle away tomorrow morning. He will repent and ask Allah forgiveness.

As usual, he went the next morning to the mosque to pray salatul Jimca where he also prayed sunnah.

His plan was to come home in the afternoon when Fahima will usually visit her friends, take the bottle from under the bed and throw it; kind of “the God’s must be crazy” equivalent.

He opened the door to the apartment, looked around to ensure that the coast was clear and retrieved the bottle. He looked at it. It was nearly empty. He paused for a moment and recalled what he did with it yesterday. He was not drunk. He just took a few shots, yet the bottle was empty.

Toloow, is someone sharing it with him? is it Fahima? Worst of all, is there a boyfriend in this picture?

Instead of taking and throwing it, Weli took a sip and decided to put it back.

The next day, the bottle was almost empty.

He confronted Fahima who after initial denials told him that she drunk it; and soon both of them were consuming alcohol.
Back to square one. They could not pay the rents and were evicted.

Within a month or so, Fahima left him because she did not want people to know about her drinking problems.

Weli ended on the streets of the small town and before long he became the victim of abuses at the hands of Somalis.

He left the small town for the largest city and became a vagrant. A local charity helped him with food and shelter.

After six months of homelessness, the same charity found him an apartment.

A year or so later, his liver give up and he died in the bathroom where his body remained for more than two months.

[AbkoowDhiblaawe]

wow that was a depressing story.

[LeJusticier]

What a talented man!! what a enjoyable post
Many parts of this story got me very vivid flashback in earlier qaxooti days in Geneva and Zurich + Ceerigabo, Bay, Burco xaliimooyinka qurbaha.....

there are only two spaces where neighbours might interact; the laundry and in the lifts. The laundry is always a place of conflicts and studies have identified it as the most likely crime scene in a country where the top news is the death of a wolf. Keeping laundry time/schedule/slots and ensuring that that the laundry is clean after washing might earn you a smile from a neighbour. On the other hand, not keeping the laundry clean or not keeping time, will earn you the wrath of your neighbours and might be the prelude to eviction from your apartment

12 year old Glenfiddich

....ha isoo xasuusin

Thanks mate


Le justicer

[Ismail87]

Interesting story. I was expecting a different ending.

[original dervish]

Strange how many former badiye inhabitants become the biggest alcoholics.
Somali's are like aboriginals.......they can't handle liquor.

[gurey25]

This is why alcohol is xaram, god is simply guiding his creations that he knows so well.
Most of us can handle liquor quite well and drink responsibly, but there is a large minortity of people genetically predisposition ed to get addcited . Because alcohol is a luxury banning it outright is for the good of the community as a whole.
The individual loses a luxury item that is not needed , and the community as a whole is saved from the ills of alcohol abuse.

[Hodan94]

12yr old drink...is that even possible for it to be in shops?
he should've sold it on ebay instead of drinking it.

[skywalker25]

I was waiting for the punchline but the poor soul dies.


Rightwing I was sure it was you till the death..

[original dervish]

Hodan....aint you ever been into an off license?

[gurey25]

12yr old drink...is that even possible for it to be in shops?
he should've sold it on ebay instead of drinking it.

aw hodan thats really good.
your post proves what a good girl you are by being totally ignorant about alcohol.



keep it up.
stay away from that cursed liquid.

i stick to the blessed herb myself.

[Hodan94]

Hodan....aint you ever been into an off license?

ufff... theres one in my area, it stinks of weed. you have to cross the road to avoid the smell.

never been in one, never will.

why ask such a question OD? I assume you're a regular visitor

[Hodan94]

12yr old drink...is that even possible for it to be in shops?
he should've sold it on ebay instead of drinking it.

aw hodan thats really good.
your post proves what a good girl you are by being totally ignorant about alcohol.



keep it up.
stay away from that cursed liquid.

i stick to the blessed herb myself.

but seriously they sell out of date alcohol in stores isn't that illegal?

[LeJusticier]

I was waiting for the punchline but the poor soul dies.


Rightwing I was sure it was you till the death..

90% yes

[Lamagoodle]

Ismacil, Sky ;
The ending; I wanted to make Bern the setting of the story; and the ending a marfish in Hayes with Weli sitting between two overweight Xalimos and singing "li lalaw, li lalaw" when death becomes him.

But, this is based on a true story.

LJ, ma waxaad deganeyd Thurgau? Aargau mise Zug? I love that country.

Gureey, I tried the blessed herb once when I was a kid and the only thing I recall was laughing the whole day for reasons unbeknown to me.

OD; it is because they drink to get high.

Hodan, Malt Whiskey is usually stored in an oak tree for many years before it is blended.

[Lamagoodle]

LJ, saaxib, gormaa kugu dambeeysay Ceel Afweyne?

I would love to go there and play the Jaandheer