I still remember the first time I heard this song. Kuwait. I must’ve been about 8 or 9. My mom and I were hovered over our old, slow computer and I was reading the latest Somali news to her. My parents are both literate and know 3 languages each, but in order for them to teach me about my origins, language, and country, they forced me to read the news to them all the time, to practice my reading skills. I used to love it, mostly because I got to drive the mouse (anyone who knows me well knows I love to control the mouse).

On this particular day, things started off the same but were about to change. My mother and I first watched a short documentary about a Somali girl who shared her story of how she was raped during the war and consequently contracted HIV. It was quite heavy and my mom and I were sad. One of the links on the side was titled “Maryan Mursal – Somali Udiida Ceeb,” meaning ‘Somalia- Don’t Allow Shame for it’ (that’s how I interpret it, at least. Most websites show a slightly different interpretation that somewhat annoys me). My mom asked me to click on it, and we watched. It started off with a young girl, about my age at the time, running with a large Somali flag. The picture eventually shatters and the singing begins. I didn’t understand much at the time, but I remember seeing a tear roll down my mom’s cheek, which prompted me to ask her to break it down for me, line by line. I never knew too much about what Somalia was prior to the war era, all I knew about was the chaos I read in the news on a daily basis, most of which I never understood. My idea of Somali history was misconstrued. But my mother informed me of how things used to be, how it’s changed now, how the song speaks of just that, and urges Somalis to not allow shame for Somalia. Somewhere over the next few minutes, something stirred inside me and I started crying too. I didn’t know why, but I did. I think that’s when I started to fall in love with Somalia, and Maryan Mursal became my favourite artist.

Here’s the original video we watched. I will translate the song, line by line sometime soon, insha’Allah.

I love Afrocentric paintings & I especially love this one for it’s vibrant colours & patterns. It’s by Marjorie Borgella over at YesLioness.com

"Tribe Woman Focus" by Marjorie Borgella

The first thing I noticed about this painting are the earrings. I instantly recognized these as Fulani Earrings, because I’ve wanted them for about two years now.

‘The Fulani earrings are created by Fulani craftsmen in Mali. One of the largest groups of nomadic herders in Africa, the Fulani customarily wore their wealth in the form of gold jewelry that they could carry with them at all times. The design has been worn for centuries, and it wasn’t uncommon to see women wearing these type of earrings with red rope around the post of the earrings to try and help alleviate the heaviness of pure gold. The women would typically get these earrings as a present on their wedding day, or on another special occasion.’ – Africa Imports

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.