Xaaqeha ((Maanso ee Dagaal ka jira Soomaaliya)(Iyo Faalo))

Maansoole: Dennis L. Siluk

Dal: Maraykanka / Beru

Tarjumay: Samantar Maxamad Siciid

Badtay gorgorkii Uncle Sam, Badday Soomaalidii!

Waan ka daalay dagaalada aadamiga
Ku daalan dunidan Hogaamiyeyaasheeda
Waxaan u jeedaa dhiig, adimo la budleeyay
Ee kuwaan mar uguga aqiin wadaynimo
Soomaaliya magaaladeeda mugdisan
Meesha Aafada Kawaanleha
U timid, iraahid, waana inaan dhintaa.

Halkeer, waxaan ka mid naqoday mootka:
Maan ka moogni.

Waxaan mar waro ka dhageeystay dhawaaqyo malaay,
Xataa rahyo boodbooda.
Waan kula dhaci karaa hurdo biyodhacyo go’doon
Ku yaal “Gran Sabana-ha Fenesuweela”,
Dhageeysan karaana kafantiisa shukada u eg
Ee biyo shubma...!

Waa waxaan iska daayay, murug-ahaanba daayay,
Waanna ooyaa intaan qoro maansadan
La iga siibayba qolafyada, waxaan ahay adimadaas midkooda
Xaaqehaa xaaqaya haddeerba,
Ka agfogba dariiqooyinka ee magaalo Soomaali dakadeed,
Haddaan qura arki kari lehaa
Dayrna kale...!

Faalo: Waxaa ka dhacay dagaal ee sadex maalmood, ama xarbi Kismaayo, ka mid naqoda xarbi socday, muddo Soomaaliya, meeshay ula dhimanayayn dadka sidii duqsiyada, waxaana lagu kaayi doonaa qormooyinka jira, maleha waxaa la soo dhigi sagxadda jidka nolasha kal ka kal, laakiin inta badan waa la iloobi. Sideedtan iyo sagaal dad baa ku dhintay, iyo in ka badan labo boqal baa ku dhaawacmay: badanaa rayid, waaxyo jir qurminaya dariiqooyinka magaalada. Goortaad ku jirtid dagaal waa wax la yaqaan, mid wuxuu soo toogtaa diyaarad, ama meel shishe ugaga soo diraa gantaalo xaggaada, ama gaarigaashaaman baa isa soo taaga, oo gama fuuqyadiisa. Nafyo baa lagu gooyaa magac dagaal, iyo mid horumar, iyo wixii naabnaabka dhan. Fallaagaduna, Itoobiyeed ama Islaamiyeedba, ama rayidka magaalo-madaxda Soomaaliya, midkoodana, maalmahan, muu u arko badanaa kuwa dhiman-og dibdanbe, ilaa ay dhintaan. Wajahidda geeri, geeridaad dagaalka ku keentid, waxay dagaalyahanka galisaa xaalad dareen mool-ahaanba barafeeysan, maad aragtid ama maqashid waxaad dilaysid, waxaad uun dilaysaa cadowga, qofwalbay naqodaanba, iyo waxwalbay soo qabtaynba. Siday u eg yahiin waxyaabahu, magaalada Soomaaliyeed ee Kismaayo waa banaan furan, dhul qabriyeed, meesha adimada iyo waaxyada jirka ay u eg yahiin kawaan rasan, ama suuq.

Waxaan is iraahdaa, oo waxaan dhaxjoogay dagaal, ma doonayo inaan ku dhinto magaalo uun baas, qof uun dudadiisa, waayo qof baa meel ka soo riday qalabka lidka diyaaradaha, oo toogtay lugahayga, dabadeed gacmahayga, muuna i yaqaan, maanna aqaan, wuuna u jiifan doonaa si fiican caawo waayo shoogga ka yimid arkidda maydkaad dishay wuu is nasakhay. Waatan xabbaddu soo aaddaa madaxayga waayo qof ii jira kiilomiitir iyo bar baa ku go’aansaday inuu riixo xoogaa batoono. Ama qof sideedtan kiilomiitir ii jira baa doonaya inay riyo u dhaboowdo – quwad yeelasho, diliddana dad uusanin aqoonin ama uusanin arki doonin ma dhibto, haddaba, wuu dili magaalo dhan hadday naqodto, wuu u dili sahal-ahaanba dheeldheel, hadday horistaagaan jidkiisa, wuuna dili hadduusanin xukumi karin. Ma aho siyaabo cusub ee hab-fikir, dhabta xaqiiqda waa mid gabowsan, waanu ilaawnay kaliya.

Xukun quwad waaye, maalmahanna, falsafada cusub, amaba siday u eg tahay, waysanin naqonin taajir ahaansho siday u naqodto xukumid kuwa agagaarkaada. Haddiina uusanin naqonin hogaamiye, deedto wuu dili oo burburin wax kasta, miduusanin Maraykanka fahansanaynin, taas ha ahaadtoba, hogaamiyeyaasha maanta, ma daneeyaan haddii adiga dadkooda dalkooda gaajo ku dhimadtaan, ilaa iyo intay ku dhagan yahiin xukunka, waayo wax way cuni doonaan si kastaba, oo kula eedeeyn doonaan dunida inteeda kale diihaalka dalalkooda. Haddaysanin xukumi karin, way burburin. Mar kale waxaan dhahaa, waa jaad kale ee shinbir midda xukunta maalmahan, u jaad dhaw Daa’uus.

*Miduusanin Maraykanka fahansanaynin: waa oraah khilaafsan qoraalka intiisa kale iyo dhabaalka dunida ee Imberadooriyada Uncle Sam.

The Sweeper ((A Poem, on War in Somalia)(And Commentary))

I'm Tired of man's wars
Tired of this world's Leaders
I stand facing blood crushed limbs
Of those I once knew as friends,
In Somalia’s dark city
Where the Butcher’s Plague
Has come, to stay, and I must die.

Here, I became part of the dead:
I harbor no delusions.

I once listened to the sounds of fish,
Even of jumping frogs, in ponds.
I could fall to sleep at secluded waterfalls
In Venezuela's Gran Sabana,
Listen to its shroud' like veils
Of pouring water...!

It's what I gave up, sadly gave up,
And weep as I write this poem
Torn from my shell, I am one of those limbs
The sweeper is sweeping up right now,
Off the streets of a Somali port city,
If only I could have
Seen another autumn also...!

Note: There has been a three day battle, or war, part of an ongoing war, a period in Somalia, where people have been dying like flies, and it will soon be tucked away, in the writings of time, perhaps brought to surface now and then down the road of life, but for the most part forgotten. Eighty-nine-people died, and over two hundred wounded: mostly civilians, body parts stinking up the city's streets. When you are in war is one thing, one shoots out of a plane, or from a distance he sends rockets your way, or the armor comes in, and shoots it shells. Lives are taken in the name of war, and progress, and all such silly things. And the insurgents, be it Ethiopian or Islamic, or Somalia's citizens in its capital, nobody, nowadays, sees the dying much anymore, until they are dead. Facing death, the death you bring on in war, puts the warrior in a deep freeze, you don't see, hear what you are killing, you just kill the enemy, whomever they are, and for whatever they've done. From the looks of things the Somali city Kismayo is an open air, graveyard, where limbs and body parts are likened to an unkempt butcher's shop, or market place.

I say to myself, and I have been in war, I don't want to die in some bloody city, in somebody's backyard, because someone, somewhere shot an anti-aircraft gun, and shot my legs off, then my arms, and he doesn't know me, nor I him, and he will sleep well tonight because the shock part of seeing the dead you killed is nullified. Now comes the bullet to my head because someone a mile away decided to press some buttons. Or someone fifty-miles away wants to have a wish come true - a power wish, and killing people he doesn't know or will never see doesn't bother him, therefore, he will kill the whole city if need be, he will simply just kill them for fun, if they get in the war, in his way, and he will kill them if he cannot rule over them. It's not a new way of thinking, matter of fact, it's pretty old, we just forgot it.

Control is power, and nowadays, the new philosophy, or so it seems to be, is not so much to be rich, than to be in control of those around you. And should a ruler not be, then he will kill and destroy everything, something the USA does not understand, that being, the rulers of today, do not care if you starve their people or country to death, as long as they can hold onto control, because they will eat anyways, and blame the rest of the world for their countries woes. If they can't control it, they will destroy it. Again I say, it is a different kind of a bird that rules nowadays, more on the peacock order.