MY LAST TRIP TO SOMALIA
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This General Forum is for general discussions from daily chitchat to more serious discussions among Somalinet Forums members. Please do not use it as your Personal Message center (PM). If you want to contact a particular person or a group of people, please use the PM feature. If you want to contact the moderators, pls PM them. If you insist leaving a public message for the mods or other members, it will be deleted.
- AbdiWahab252
- SomaliNet Super
- Posts: 56715
- Joined: Mon Jul 14, 2003 7:00 pm
- Location: Unity. Strength. Capital.
MY LAST TRIP TO SOMALIA
My Last Trip To Somalia
We patiently sat at the Wilson Airport lounge waiting for the Beechcraft to taxi into the terminal. Kamal, Michael and I were headed to Mogadishu on an journalism assignement with Le Monde. We were to cover Somalia after the formation of the Empagathi government a few months earlier. Kamal was busy downing his third Tusker beer at the bar while Michael was kicking it to this lovely Kenyan woman. Kamal was the photographer on this assignment. The Spaniard was fond of dangerous assignments which took him all over the global hotspots. Michael, a half Somali-Italian, was a correspondent with RAI who had joined me on this assignment.
Our plane finally started to taxi to the terminal and was proceeded to get loaded with its popular cargo. The pilot, a Asian man, was inspecting the plane and keeping an eye on the cargo load. He proceeded to walk over to the lounge and headed straight for the bar. The pilot proceeded to smoke a cigarette and ordered a large Pilsner.
I walked up to the bar to order a Sprite and to talk to the pilot. "Hello, I am Abdi and we are the group that you will be flying to Dayniile Airport, Mogadishu."
"Well, well, you must be the journalists. My name is Kumar. We will be taking off in about 40 minutes after the cargo has been loaded and the plane is refueled."
I proceeded to corral the my partners in crime. Kamal was obviously nervous about the trip and most importantly, the lack of drinking facilities. Michael well, his kyrpotnite was the ladies and was wooing the Kenyan stewardess perhaps to get into the Mile High Club.
"Gentlemen, we are off in 40 minutes. Gather your equipment and lets get ready !"
"Oh, that is some gooood newsÂ… " slurred Kamal. He ovibously had to much to drink.
"That's it ! No more drinking." I yelled.
"Michael, come on. Lets get ready to go. Wrap it up Casanova."
We proceeded to walk over to the aircraft and loaded our equipment. We got in and sat in the small seats. The whole plane smelled of khat. I couldn't but help to salivate as it had been nearly 3 years since I last chewed some. I could feel the tingling sensation in my hands as the Khat called out to me, "Chew me Â… Chew me."
"Good afternoon ! This is your pilot speaking. We will be taking off in approximately 1 minute on a flight path, north east at an altitude of 3,000 feet. Please fasten your seat belts when seated as this flight will definitely experience turbulence."
I hated flying in small aircraft especially in Africa especially after nearly crashing in one in Angola. The paper plane soon took off and we were in the air. I visibly clenched my seat and started to pray. Kamal was too drunk to be frightened and Michael was busy reading his newspaper.
The two hour flight was the longest and most scariest flight I ever took. The plane began to swerve from side to side and up and down. It was indeed the paper plane. The smell of the khat did not help and I wished to be on the ground as soon as possible.
"Guys, prepare for landing" said the pilot over the intercom.
Kamal woke up from his slumber and I fastened my seatbelt. The airstrip was not visible until it showed up beneath us as the plane circled around waiting for the okay from the ground control. The plane swooped to the ground at high rate of speed and I prayed. Countless wishes/promises were made on the harrowing flight.
A hive of activity began to form around the plane as soon as it stopped. A group of wiley looking men approached the plane in 5 pick ups. They were the buyers of the khat and we soon got off the plane. The hot air enveloped me like a wet towel. I was overjoyed to finally have my feet on the ground.
"All right folks, lets get our baggage and catch our ride."
"Somalia, oh Somalia, I am finally here !" said Kamal. He seemed to relish being in Somalia.
We picked up our bags and headed to the exit of the strip where my cousin and his vehicles awaited us. As we walked off, a voice called out, "Warya Abdiyoow !" I looked back and couldn't recognize the individual who was a tall man with 5 armed guards.
"Abdi Ahmed, miyaad xasuusta ?" he quipped as he walked towards us.
It was none other than an old friend of mine and son of the resident warlord who owned the strip. We hadn't seen each other since the days of Siyaad Barre. After a few minutes of introduction, he invited me and my crew along with my cousin & staff to his house for lunch.
After eating a traditional Somali meal of goat meat and rice, we were on our way. My associate insisted if I needed anything to call him. My cousin had brought 3 Landcruiser technicals (AbdiBiles) and 12 staff to guide us around Xamar. We were headed to the Saxafi Hotel (Journalist Hotel) made famous during the UNOSOM II when dozens of journalists reported from its rooftop. There were several checkpoints which we crossed with ease due to the heavy security and the diverse combination of qabiil staff who negotiated with the isbaaro owners.
During the drive, we talked about life while listening to 50 cent. Kamal was estatic to be surrounded by heavy military equipment. Deep in his heart, he wished to be a mooryaan. Michael was busy staring out the window for ladies.
We got to the hotel and checked in. In the courtyard, I bumped into the infamous warlord, Morgan. The ZZ top bearded man had returned from coaching a basketball game. The Butcher of Hargeisa was sporting an imamad and was smoking a cigarette.
"S/Aleykum !" he said
"W/Salaam !" I replied.
"Warya, LA Lakers Â… " he said.
Kamal froze. He had been wearing his LA lakers cap & jersey and recognized this infamous warlord.
"Ha, wa team aad uu fiican. Lakiin waxan ka fiican Boston Celtics." He said.
"Abti, wiilka af-soomali ma yaqaano." I replied.
We then got into an interesting discussion about basketball. Morgan was a big basketball fan yet seemed to be out of touch. He was stuck in the 1980s when the Celtics were awesome.
Everyone checked into their rooms and we decided to meet up in the morning. I woke up to the sound of birds chirping the next morning. We headed down to the hotel restaurant where I saw some other notable Somali politicians. Sharif Shiek Hasan was there along with the members of the TFG opposed to the Jowhar faction. They were eating a tradional breakfast of laxoox and beer.
We patiently sat at the Wilson Airport lounge waiting for the Beechcraft to taxi into the terminal. Kamal, Michael and I were headed to Mogadishu on an journalism assignement with Le Monde. We were to cover Somalia after the formation of the Empagathi government a few months earlier. Kamal was busy downing his third Tusker beer at the bar while Michael was kicking it to this lovely Kenyan woman. Kamal was the photographer on this assignment. The Spaniard was fond of dangerous assignments which took him all over the global hotspots. Michael, a half Somali-Italian, was a correspondent with RAI who had joined me on this assignment.
Our plane finally started to taxi to the terminal and was proceeded to get loaded with its popular cargo. The pilot, a Asian man, was inspecting the plane and keeping an eye on the cargo load. He proceeded to walk over to the lounge and headed straight for the bar. The pilot proceeded to smoke a cigarette and ordered a large Pilsner.
I walked up to the bar to order a Sprite and to talk to the pilot. "Hello, I am Abdi and we are the group that you will be flying to Dayniile Airport, Mogadishu."
"Well, well, you must be the journalists. My name is Kumar. We will be taking off in about 40 minutes after the cargo has been loaded and the plane is refueled."
I proceeded to corral the my partners in crime. Kamal was obviously nervous about the trip and most importantly, the lack of drinking facilities. Michael well, his kyrpotnite was the ladies and was wooing the Kenyan stewardess perhaps to get into the Mile High Club.
"Gentlemen, we are off in 40 minutes. Gather your equipment and lets get ready !"
"Oh, that is some gooood newsÂ… " slurred Kamal. He ovibously had to much to drink.
"That's it ! No more drinking." I yelled.
"Michael, come on. Lets get ready to go. Wrap it up Casanova."
We proceeded to walk over to the aircraft and loaded our equipment. We got in and sat in the small seats. The whole plane smelled of khat. I couldn't but help to salivate as it had been nearly 3 years since I last chewed some. I could feel the tingling sensation in my hands as the Khat called out to me, "Chew me Â… Chew me."
"Good afternoon ! This is your pilot speaking. We will be taking off in approximately 1 minute on a flight path, north east at an altitude of 3,000 feet. Please fasten your seat belts when seated as this flight will definitely experience turbulence."
I hated flying in small aircraft especially in Africa especially after nearly crashing in one in Angola. The paper plane soon took off and we were in the air. I visibly clenched my seat and started to pray. Kamal was too drunk to be frightened and Michael was busy reading his newspaper.
The two hour flight was the longest and most scariest flight I ever took. The plane began to swerve from side to side and up and down. It was indeed the paper plane. The smell of the khat did not help and I wished to be on the ground as soon as possible.
"Guys, prepare for landing" said the pilot over the intercom.
Kamal woke up from his slumber and I fastened my seatbelt. The airstrip was not visible until it showed up beneath us as the plane circled around waiting for the okay from the ground control. The plane swooped to the ground at high rate of speed and I prayed. Countless wishes/promises were made on the harrowing flight.
A hive of activity began to form around the plane as soon as it stopped. A group of wiley looking men approached the plane in 5 pick ups. They were the buyers of the khat and we soon got off the plane. The hot air enveloped me like a wet towel. I was overjoyed to finally have my feet on the ground.
"All right folks, lets get our baggage and catch our ride."
"Somalia, oh Somalia, I am finally here !" said Kamal. He seemed to relish being in Somalia.
We picked up our bags and headed to the exit of the strip where my cousin and his vehicles awaited us. As we walked off, a voice called out, "Warya Abdiyoow !" I looked back and couldn't recognize the individual who was a tall man with 5 armed guards.
"Abdi Ahmed, miyaad xasuusta ?" he quipped as he walked towards us.
It was none other than an old friend of mine and son of the resident warlord who owned the strip. We hadn't seen each other since the days of Siyaad Barre. After a few minutes of introduction, he invited me and my crew along with my cousin & staff to his house for lunch.
After eating a traditional Somali meal of goat meat and rice, we were on our way. My associate insisted if I needed anything to call him. My cousin had brought 3 Landcruiser technicals (AbdiBiles) and 12 staff to guide us around Xamar. We were headed to the Saxafi Hotel (Journalist Hotel) made famous during the UNOSOM II when dozens of journalists reported from its rooftop. There were several checkpoints which we crossed with ease due to the heavy security and the diverse combination of qabiil staff who negotiated with the isbaaro owners.
During the drive, we talked about life while listening to 50 cent. Kamal was estatic to be surrounded by heavy military equipment. Deep in his heart, he wished to be a mooryaan. Michael was busy staring out the window for ladies.
We got to the hotel and checked in. In the courtyard, I bumped into the infamous warlord, Morgan. The ZZ top bearded man had returned from coaching a basketball game. The Butcher of Hargeisa was sporting an imamad and was smoking a cigarette.
"S/Aleykum !" he said
"W/Salaam !" I replied.
"Warya, LA Lakers Â… " he said.
Kamal froze. He had been wearing his LA lakers cap & jersey and recognized this infamous warlord.
"Ha, wa team aad uu fiican. Lakiin waxan ka fiican Boston Celtics." He said.
"Abti, wiilka af-soomali ma yaqaano." I replied.
We then got into an interesting discussion about basketball. Morgan was a big basketball fan yet seemed to be out of touch. He was stuck in the 1980s when the Celtics were awesome.
Everyone checked into their rooms and we decided to meet up in the morning. I woke up to the sound of birds chirping the next morning. We headed down to the hotel restaurant where I saw some other notable Somali politicians. Sharif Shiek Hasan was there along with the members of the TFG opposed to the Jowhar faction. They were eating a tradional breakfast of laxoox and beer.
- foolxume2005
- SomaliNet Heavyweight
- Posts: 3705
- Joined: Fri Nov 26, 2004 3:30 pm
- Location: JIG_JIGA
- Contact:
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- SomaliNet Heavyweight
- Posts: 3722
- Joined: Mon Apr 30, 2001 7:00 pm
- Location: Dabkeenaa bakhtiya roobna waa ina dul joogaaye
was proceeded to get loaded with its popular cargo.
He proceeded to walk over to the lounge and headed straight for the bar.
The pilot proceeded to smoke a cigarette and ordered a large Pilsner.
Too much proceeding in the preceding story. You are not writing a report. As well, according to the unwritten prose style rules, recurrence of the same word in a single paragraph is considered inelegant.
And pay some attention to the grammar and punctuation. Otherwise well done. I look forward to your displacing Nurudin Farah as the pre-eminent Somali writing in English.
He proceeded to walk over to the lounge and headed straight for the bar.
The pilot proceeded to smoke a cigarette and ordered a large Pilsner.
Too much proceeding in the preceding story. You are not writing a report. As well, according to the unwritten prose style rules, recurrence of the same word in a single paragraph is considered inelegant.
And pay some attention to the grammar and punctuation. Otherwise well done. I look forward to your displacing Nurudin Farah as the pre-eminent Somali writing in English.
[quote="Cilmiile"]was proceeded to get loaded with its popular cargo.
He proceeded to walk over to the lounge and headed straight for the bar.
The pilot proceeded to smoke a cigarette and ordered a large Pilsner.
Too much proceeding in the preceding story. You are not writing a report. As well, according to the unwritten prose style rules, recurrence of the same word in a single paragraph is considered inelegant.
And pay some attention to the grammar and punctuation. Otherwise well done. I look forward to your displacing Nurudin Farah as the pre-eminent Somali writing in English.[/quote]
I then proceeded immediately to dissolve into hysterical laughter

He proceeded to walk over to the lounge and headed straight for the bar.
The pilot proceeded to smoke a cigarette and ordered a large Pilsner.
Too much proceeding in the preceding story. You are not writing a report. As well, according to the unwritten prose style rules, recurrence of the same word in a single paragraph is considered inelegant.
And pay some attention to the grammar and punctuation. Otherwise well done. I look forward to your displacing Nurudin Farah as the pre-eminent Somali writing in English.[/quote]
I then proceeded immediately to dissolve into hysterical laughter












- Ashlee
- SomaliNet Super
- Posts: 9351
- Joined: Fri Nov 04, 2005 11:49 am
- Location: The night is darkest just before the dawn. And I promise you, the dawn is coming.
"Soul Meets Body"
I want to live where soul meets body
And let the sun wrap its arms around me
And bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing
And feel, feel what its like to be new
Cause in my head thereÂ’s a greyhound station
Where I send my thoughts to far off destinations
So they may have a chance of finding a place
where theyÂ’re far more suited than here
I cannot guess what we'll discover
We turn the dirt with our palms cupped like shovels
But I know our filthy hands can wash one anotherÂ’s
And not one speck will remain
I do believe itÂ’s true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
If the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too
So brown eyes I hold you near
Cause youÂ’re the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
Where soul meets body
Where soul meets body
Where soul meets body
I do believe itÂ’s true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
If the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too
So brown eyes I hold you near
Cause youÂ’re the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
I want to live where soul meets body
And let the sun wrap its arms around me
And bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing
And feel, feel what its like to be new
Cause in my head thereÂ’s a greyhound station
Where I send my thoughts to far off destinations
So they may have a chance of finding a place
where theyÂ’re far more suited than here
I cannot guess what we'll discover
We turn the dirt with our palms cupped like shovels
But I know our filthy hands can wash one anotherÂ’s
And not one speck will remain
I do believe itÂ’s true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
If the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too
So brown eyes I hold you near
Cause youÂ’re the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
Where soul meets body
Where soul meets body
Where soul meets body
I do believe itÂ’s true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
If the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too
So brown eyes I hold you near
Cause youÂ’re the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
- Modern-poli
- SomaliNetizen
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- Location: room 101
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- SomaliNet Super
- Posts: 8363
- Joined: Tue Dec 23, 2003 7:00 pm
- Location: H-Town in Somaliland
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- SomaliNet Super
- Posts: 8363
- Joined: Tue Dec 23, 2003 7:00 pm
- Location: H-Town in Somaliland
-
- SomaliNet Super
- Posts: 8363
- Joined: Tue Dec 23, 2003 7:00 pm
- Location: H-Town in Somaliland
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