Homesick

I’ve never really been back home, but through my mother’s recollections of old poems my grandfather wrote (May Allah have mercy on his soul) and my father’s childhood adventures, I’ve been able to somehow live vicariously through them the days when Somalia was still young and peaceful, and I loved every bit of it, and still do. Sitting on the family room carpet with everyone around just listening to those stories and poems over and over, for endless hours were precious moments I always looked forward to.

My father is in Ottawa now for his vacation, and everyone’s so happy from the sounds of it, and I’m not gonna lie, I feel nostalgic. I wish I were there now, just for a few weeks to be with my family. [end of sappy segment]

Anyway, so when I feel like this, I always open iPhoto and look through the pictures and videos I have stored on my laptop. Tonight’s selection of photos and videos include a video from a little road-trip I took with my mother and brothers back in August. On our way back to Ottawa, my mother with her beautiful voice began reciting poetry and songs, and my brother and I would occasionally join in with our “haye” and “wakaas” (Somali equivalent of Uh-huh and Oh yea’s). Those few hours were priceless and I’m happy I caught some of it on tape. Here’s a segment of one poem hooyo macaan was singing (translation follows):

Wiil geel jire iyo gabar tima tidcani
waa waxaa dhulkeena u gaar ahee
laynagu gartaa

Maanteey galladii noo soo gashee
gobannimadayada Guuloow adkee

Reer guuraa iyo ida gorod madow
waa waxaa dhulkeena u gaar ahee
laynagu gartaa

Maanteey galladii noo soo gashee
gobannimadayada Guuloow adkee

Rough Translation:

A shepherd boy and a girl with braided hair
are things our land is known for and
recognized by.

Today is the day His favour has come to us.
O’ Giver of Victory, please keep strong our freedom.

Nomadic families and black-headed sheep
are things our land is known for
and recognized by.

Today is the day His favour has come to us,
O’ Giver of Victory, please keep strong our freedom.

Hearing this poem again after two months not only brings back vivid memories of those special moments with my family, but also makes me feel at ease (I’m guessing it has to do with the patriotic elements of the poem accompanied by my mother’s lullaby-like Grammy-deserving voice). I hope I’m able to sing that last verse one day while I’m peacefully standing on the rich red soil of my homeland. insha’Allah.